Snowed In
by Kitty Faerie
Summary: England has caught a dangerous fever and the only person there to help is America. But when a horrible snow storm strikes the area, the two find themselves trapped in America's house. Will the two survive? USUK
1. Fish n' Chips

_Yay for a new fan fic! This one had just eaten my brain at the moment. _

_Full Summary: _When a dangerous fever causes England to fall ill, America finds himself trapped. The harsh winter has come early and it isn't long before the nations find themselves trapped inside with no way out.

**Rated T because America has a potty mouth. :3

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Weather in North America changes more often than Prussia's current notebook. Basically, it changes a lot. Because America is such a large country, it could be snowing in one state and sunny in another. The North tended to be cooler than the South, especially in the winter. So when it started to snow in mid November, no one thought much of it.

A World Meeting was being held in New York City that month so the countries almost expected snow at this time of year. Sometimes in the East it would snow all the way from Thanksgiving clear until New Years. Thankfully the World Meeting was being held early in the morning so most of the countries could catch a flight back home before the real weather set in and caused a lot of delays. Canada, England, and Sealand were the only exceptions. Canada was taking his younger brother, Sealand, back to his house to see moose as the small micro-nation had never seen moose before. England was staying at America's town house in New York City because he there would be no more flights to England by the time the meeting was over. So, the tiny family had forged together a holiday celebration for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was celebrated at America's house with the meeting the very next day. Then Canada and Sealand would leave and England would spend the night and catch a flight home the day after that. It was the perfect plan... Until things went wrong.

Economies all over the world were suffering, but none as bad as England and France. Both countries owed a lot of money to the other countries in the world. Some of the other countries were nice about it and were in no rush to be payed back. Others wanted their money as soon as possible and threatened to increase interest rates if it wasn't payed off soon. Needless to say, the countries who were demanding the most were the ones who also had large debts to pay.

With all the money problems, the World Meeting turned into a war by the first half hour. Thankfully, Germany got everyone to calm down like he usually had to. The topic of cold hard cash was forgotten and the countries were actually able to move onto other, more important topics. By the end of the meeting much had been accomplished. The countries left the meeting center feeling relieved and fulfilled. This had been one of the most successful meetings and most countries left with a smile on their face. They waved goodbye to their friends and headed off to the airport.

"Good bye Mattie!" America called to his brother, "Be good and hump a moose for me!"  
"Ok... Wait... What?" Canada replied.

"... And what have I told you about sneaking into a meeting like that? You were told to stay at America's house. What in the world am I going to do with you?" England was finishing up scolding Sealand for sneaking into yet another World Meeting. "Now be good for your brother, will you? And don't give him nearly as much of a bad time as you do to me." He gave the young nation a pat on the back and sent him over to where Canada had the car waiting.

"Come visit me for Christmas," America told his brother. The next World Meeting wouldn't be until January as December was designated for the holidays and no one wanted to have a boring meeting around the holidays.

"Christmas is at my house, you git!" England yelled at him.

America rolled his eyes, "Ok, fine then. Come visit me two days _before_ Christmas and we can catch a plane together." He turned to the elder nation. "There, happy now?"

"Will do," Canada told his brother, "Don't be afraid to call."

The two got in the car and drove away. America and England stayed put until the car turned the corner and was out of sight. They then turned and continued down the streets of Manhattan as the snow danced and flew around them. England coughed and sneezed as they were walking and America shot worried glances at his friend and elder. England had not been doing too well. He looked hot and feverish throughout the whole meeting. Come to think of it, he didn't look one hundred percent on Thanksgiving either. America hoped that everything was Ok, but knowing England he would rather die then tell anyone that anything was wrong.

It wasn't until they were a block away from America's house that he began to get more and more worried. Suddenly, England keeled over and let loose and hard string of coughs that seemed to shake the very Earth. America ran over to him and held and patted his back as he coughed. He also took the time to feel the elder nation's forehead which was burning at the touch. "My God," America thought, "You could fry and egg! He must be really sick."

When the spasm was over, England pushed America away. "Get off me, you bloody git," England shouted, "I'm fine." The strain on his voice sent him into yet another coughing spasm.

"England, maybe when we get home you should lie down. You're not looking too good. You look super pale. Plus I think you have a fever," America said softly when the second coughing spasm had passed.

"I told you, I'm fine," England insisted. With that he turned around and walked back to America's house leaving America to trail after him.

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"I'm going to cook and that is final!"

"Just go lie the hell down so you can get over the cold you obviously have!"

"I do not have a cold you bloody git!"

"What? Do you need a frigging building to fall on you before you realize the fact that you have a cold that's getting worse by the second. Here, let me feel your forehead again!"

"Don't touch me!"

America and England were fighting again, only the words took a more serious turn. England had insisted on cooking one of the days he was here. America refused to allow him to cook for Thanksgiving hoping to have at least one enjoyable meal. So, England decided that he was going to cook for the younger nation the night before he left. And when England wanted to cook, he cooked. But it was also obvious that England had a bad cold and needed to lie down.

"I'll make you some soup, just please lie down," America pleaded with the elder nation.

"I told you, I'm fine! And I don't want nor need your deep friend soup!"England shouted refusing to listen to reason.

America realized that this was a loosing battle and that England would just over exert himself if they continued fighting. Maybe after dinner America could get the old Britt to go to bed early. "Iggy," he said defeated, "Alright. The fish is in the fridge and the potatoes are on the second shelf to the right in the pantry." England had declared that he was going to make fish and chips for America, something that the young nation used to love when he was younger.

"I don't get it Alfred," England sighed, "You used to love my cooking when you were younger. Now you fight me every time I offer to cook."

"England, I want your food it's just that your-" America started but cut himself off knowing that starting the argument would do no one any good. So he just plopped himself on the couch and turned on the America Movie Channel while England bustled into the kitchen to begin to cook the 'meal.'

As England was preparing the meal he began to feel worse and worse. Bouts of dizziness and nausea would overwhelm him every now and then as he would try to cook. 'Maybe Alfred is right,' England thought, 'Maybe I really am sick. No. That's crazy. He's just being a git about me wanting to cook.'

England was doing somewhat Ok until he began to peal the potatoes. The wave of dizziness overtook him quicker than he could have imagined. He gripped the counter being careful not to drop the knife or the potato he had been pealing. He took a deep breath but felt himself overheating. He tried to collect himself but just couldn't as yet another wave of dizziness overpowered him and sent him tumbling to the ground.

America was sitting on the couch pretending to watch the last part of a movie he didn't know the name of. He was really trying to figure out a good way to get England into bed earlier than usual. He heard a crash and then a bang. He jumped up and ran to the kitchen with his heart in his mouth. England was laying face down on the ground with a knife inserted into the palm of his left hand.

"Shit!" America cried as he bent down to gather his friend. He placed the elder nation's head on his lap and tried to rouse him. "England! England! Arthur? Old dude? Limey? Wake up!" But England couldn't be roused. His eyes then shifted to the knife that was sticking out of England's hand. "Double shit," America cursed. He then felt England's forehead and found it to be hotter than before.

Realizing that he didn't have much time, he grabbed the kitchen extension of his house phone. He placed the phone to his ear balancing England with his other hand. Nothing. The phone was dead. He tried dialing 911, but got nothing. No dial tone, no ringing, no nothing. He stood up with England and look out his small kitchen window. All he saw was white. It was a complete whiteout. The blizzard had come quicker than expected and he and England were trapped. Trapped in a small house with a very sick England.

"Triple shit."

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_So review, please. And feel free to rip it apart :D_


	2. White Blankets

_HOLY CRAP THANK YOU GUYS SO, SO MUCH :D  
I went to bed all depressed last night thinking that no one had read it, but when I woke up in the morning I had 4 reviews and like a BAJILLION favorite story notes. OASKJSFHFHSOJ YOU GUYS ROCK!  
Anyway, I thought this chapter was so short, but it's not. Sorry for the big chunky paragraphs xP Anyway, enjoy :D

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America quickly brought the older nation upstairs to his guest room. The room was bright blue with a comfortable bed. It wasn't always this way, though. It used to be a storage room with a small cot crammed in the corner, but because England and the rest of America's family would stay so often he was forced to make the room into something 'Presentable' as England would say.

America got England's green PJs out of his suitcase and put them on him. He then settled the nation into bed and felt his forehead. No change. America rushed downstairs and grabbed a thermometer and a damp cloth. He rushed back upstairs half hoping to see his friend and father figure awake. Unfortunately that was not the case. Beads of sweat dripped down the sick nation's face. America did not think it was possible for the nation to grow any paler but he had been wrong. He placed the cool cloth on England's forehead and stuck the thermometer in his mouth.

While he was waiting for the results, he grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket. No bars. All the power lines across town must be down due to the storm. America did not live directly in New York City. If he did, he probably would have been able to make his way to a hospital. Instead, he wanted a house that was near the city, but far enough away that he could have a nice, quiet, peaceful time while he was at home. So he picked a house somewhat in the country. The country roads were never plowed by now when a storm was falling. It usually took a day or two.

He then grabbed some bandage he had found in a kitchen drawer. The knife was still lodged into England's hand. He was afraid to pull the thing out for fear that it would begin to bleed all over the place again. He also had a bucket of cool water on the nightstand to dip his hand in. He quickly grabbed the knife and pulled it out and stuck the mangled hand into the water. He then pulled it up and dried it with a white towel. The white towel turned red as England's blood seeped everywhere. Finally he wrapped the bandage around the bloodied hand praying to God he had performed a correct medical procedure. That was when he desperately wished that Canada or someone were here to help him.

America didn't often think of his brother as someone who could be effective help when everything went wrong. But all he wanted was someone to help him get through this. He didn't often admit when he was scared, but he was terrified at the moment. He usually didn't call Canada as he usually forgot to, but now was an emergency. Canada might know what to do. Well, maybe. He at least might have a computer or something so he could get information on what to do. The computer, the television, and the phone were all down at America's house. Only the heat, a few digital clocks, and a few kitchen appliances were still running and America had a sinking feeling that they would go out soon enough.

Lost in his thoughts, the young nation almost didn't hear the thermometer beep to let him know that England's temperature had been assessed. America swiped the device out of England's mouth almost afraid of what he would see. His heart sank at the reading. 105.1°. This was not good. He paused for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. The only sound in the house was the sound of England's labored breathing. This worried America to no end and made it hard to collect his thoughts.

First off, America was sure that there was no medicine in the house. He rarely got sick so he only kept a few cold pills in the house during the winter. Last year, a cold had gotten him by surprise and he had taken all of them and didn't buy anymore. Second, there was no way in hell he would ever be able to get out of the house. The roads were blocked and if he couldn't even reach Canada on his cell phone, there was no way he would be able to get to a store in this weather. Most importantly, he did not want to leave a sick England home all by himself.

He glanced at the clock that was on the bedside table. It was already 10:32pm. It was about time he went to bed, but he didn't want to leave the sick nation by himself. So he pulled the chair in the corner over to where England was and sat down. He wanted to be there when England woke up. Before he could get up again and grab a blanket, he was asleep.

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England was swimming underwater as he had done so many times before. The only difference between this time and before was the odd fact that he could breathe. It was hard, but he was still able to get air into his lungs even underwater. Had England not been sick, he probably would have realized that he was just dreaming. But England kept on swimming until he felt himself beginning to hit the surface.

Slowly, England opened his eyes. His vision was blurry and he could not make out where he was. He blinked and the world came back into view. He was lying in a bed as hot as could be and he had one hell of a headache. He tried to think of the day before wondering if he and Alfred had gone out drinking. No, that wasn't it, because they had a fight about something. Food maybe? Yes, it probably was food, but why? England pondered this for a moment. "Oh yeah," He thought, "I wanted to cook, but that git told me to lie down." He mulled the situation over in his head for a moment. "So I went into the kitchen to make fish and chips. I was peeling the potatoes when… Oh shit." England had struck gold. He remembered that he was peeling a potato and a wave of dizziness launched him into the counter. Then another wave had grabbed him and he fell. And then he woke up in a bed.

Slowly he turned his head to the side noticing how hard it was for him to move. He felt as if he had gotten wasted and then was hit by a truck. For those who don't know how it feels, it hurts. A lot. Realizing he had shut his eyes by accident again he opened them to see America sitting by the bed fast asleep in a comfy white armchair. He seemed to be shivering in his sleep so the older nation, being the good parent he had once been, got up and out of bed faster than he probably should have.

A wave of dizziness caught him and forced him to sit down. He fought against his body, though, and made his way to the dresser where he knew America kept his extra sheets and blankets. He grabbed the top blanket, a very soft white one, and walked back slowly to where the bed was trying his best to keep his balance. He draped the blanket over the sleeping nation and 'tucked' him into the chair. Then the dizziness came back and he put himself back into bed before he passed out yet again.

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_Again, sorry for the chunky long paragraphs. Next chapter should be better xP And Canada filled :D Anyway, review please :3 And feel free to critique as well :D_


	3. I Saw A Moose!

_You guys are seriously just flipping awesome :D I Thanks so much for the reviews! So, as an appology to a kinda short chunky chapter yesterday, here's chapter 3. I won't be updating as often as I have been, probably every two days or so starting now. But I'm not going to stop until I'm done :3  
Anyway, in this chapter Canada calls :D Wheee~_

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America awoke just as the first light came streaming through the window. The clock had gone out as a result of the winter storm that still had not stopped coming. The snow was vicious today, America noted. It seemed to be coming down even harder. There had to be at least three feet of snow on the ground by now. America glanced away from the window and his eyes landed on the still sleeping England. The coolness of his compress had no doubt worn off by now and his bandages more than likely needed to be changed.

America tried to sit up but was restrained by something. He looked down not having noticed the blanket around him before. He was tucked in like nobody's business and, although he felt warm, it took him about two minutes to get himself out of the chair. He had forgotten getting up and grabbing a blanket so it took him by surprise. "Wait a minute," He whispered out loud, "I never got a blanket. I fell asleep before I could grab one." That made him think that maybe he had sleep walked. But then he realized that there was no way that he could have tucked himself in so tightly especially when he was so tired. His gaze then turned back to the sleeping Britt. "He didn't…" America said, "If he did, I'll flipping kill him."

America then smiled. He was angry that the man had gotten him a blanket when he was in no condition to be moving around, but he knew that it was the thought that counted. For now, at least. When England woke up, America would surely let him have it.

With that, America went downstairs to fill the jug with cool water and grab some more bandages. It sure was lucky that he even had them. Had he not accidentally stabbed himself in the arm with glass that had broken off a beer bottle at one of France's parties that past year, he probably would not have had the bandages.

He quickly went back upstairs with the items and was greeted by a still sleeping England. He placed the thermometer in England's mouth and the cold compress on his head. While waiting for the results of his temperature, he wrapped began to wrap the hand again. After taking off the bandage, he noticed that the hand was beat red and had swelled much throughout the night. The wound was still open but he could tell that it was beginning to close. He dabbed some water on it and rewrapped the hand. The moment he finished, the beeper on the thermometer went off.

America took the device out of England's mouth and checked it. 105.5! How could it have gone up? The room was cool, the compress was cool, everything in the fricking whole room was cool! How in the world could heat even exist in a setting like this? Heated tears popped into America's eyes and he honestly thought he was going to cry. Why hadn't everything he had done been enough?

Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. It didn't register at first but then he realized. The phone. It was going off. In his pocket. That could mean only one thing. The cell phone had bars and it was possible to reach someone. He then realized that when a phone went off, he had to answer it. He fumbled with his pocket until he was finally able to dig out the phone. "He… Hello?" He asked.

"Hey, Alfred!" a voice on the other end called, "How are things? Has England left already?"

America recognized that voice as none other than Canada! What luck! "Mattie?" America asked, "I'm so, so glad to hear from you! I was going to call you but the lines went dead because of the storm."

"Yeah, I heard it was a pretty bad storm," Mathew replied. Then it hit him. "Wait, you were going to actually call me? Well, that's a first." America was not one to call someone, especially Mathew as he usually forgot to.

"This is serious, Mathew. We're in deep shit," America said darkly. "England's really sick. He passed out yesterday and has a 105 fever at least."

"What?" Mathew yelled, "What happened? I mean, I know he wasn't looking 100% at the meeting, but it didn't think it was that bad."

"Trust me, I didn't either," America said solemnly, "I told him to lie down but he just wouldn't. He insisted on cooking for me so I just let him. I should have stopped him. He was peeling a potato when he collapsed and then knife got stuck in his hand."

"Shit," Mathew whispered.

"You can say that again."

There was an eerie silence between the two brothers interrupted only by England's breathing. "What should I do?" America finally asked his brother.

Canada knew it wasn't often that America admitted defeat and asked people for help. Unfortunately, Canada did not have the answer at the moment. "Well, what have you done so far?"

"When I brought him up to bed his fever was 105. Then I put a cold compress on his forehead and wrapped a bandage around his hand. I pulled up a chair and fell asleep," America replied pondering what else had happened. Then it hit him. "Oh! I woke up with a blanket around me. I think he might have gotten up in the middle of the night to fetch one for me. You don't think that would bring his fever up, do you?"

"It depends on how long he was walking around," Canada answered, "I guess just keep doing what you're doing. I don't think anything you're doing is hurting him, but I'm no doctor." Canada paused a moment. "Sealand and I will begin packing and we'll probably be there by tomorrow or the next day."

America shook his head although his brother couldn't see him. "If you were able to come here, he would be at the hospital right now or something. He would be feeling better at least."

"What?" Canada asked, not quite understanding what had just been said.

"In other words, if you could come down here, that would mean the roads were plowed," America explained, "If the roads were plowed, I could get him to a hospital or at least get some medicine for him. God DAMNIT! What am I going to do?"

"Hey, it's Ok," Canada tried, "I'm sure everything will be Ok."

"Speaking of Sealand, can I talk to him?" America asked ignoring Canada.

"Err... Sure, I guess," Canada said handing the phone to the tiny micro-nation that so desperately wanted to be a part of what all the bigger countries were talking about.

"Hi, America! I saw a moose!" He sang to his older brother.

"That's amazing, Sealand!" America exclaimed in fake surprise to the young boy. "Look, there's something really serious going on and as a super amazing country, like myself, you need to know." He smiled to himself knowing that all Sealand wanted was to be acknowledged and he had basically done just that.

"Really?" Sealand shouted surprised, "What's the serious thing? 'Cause I'ma nation and I need to know."

"You see, England sick," America explained, "Like, really, really sick. I know he can be a jerk to you sometimes, but it's serious. I'm telling you this because as a nation you need to know, Ok?"

"Ok," Sealand said quietly, "Will he be Ok, though?" Although Sealand and England had their fights, Sealand really did love England and looked up to him like a son would to his father. Hearing that his father figure was sick troubled him greatly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," America soothed, "He's an awesome nation like you and I, right? So he'll be just fine." In truth, America was speaking more so to sooth himself. He didn't like being pessimistic, but it was hard to feel cheery when you had no idea what was going on.

"Right, Ok!" Sealand said sounding chipper, "Here's Canada. By America!"

"Why did you tell him?" Canada asked quickly picking up the phone. He wasn't angry at America, he just generally wanted to know.

"Honestly, Canada," America said solemnly, "In case anything happens to him. Plus, if I was in Sealand's shoes I would want to know." Yet another eerie silence filled the room as America's words seemed to echo through the phone lines.

"Don't think like that," Canada said trying to sound hopeful, "He'll be just fine. Look, I have to go. But call me if anything changes, please, good or bad! Don't forget."

"I promise I won't," America said, "I'll call you by evening no matter what." With that, the two brothers hung up leaving America in a silent room yet again. England's breathing seemed to be a little more controlled, but it was still labored and heavy. America checked his phone. It was only 7:30am. It was going to be a long day, he could just tell.

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_Thanks again, for reading. And if you have the time, please review :3_


	4. Stupid Useless Sun

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed and faved my story :D You guys are absolutely amazing :D  
So just read and I have a surprise preview for you at the end of this chapter. No peeking ;) (not that I can really stop you...)_

_Anyway, enjoy!

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America sat on the edge of the bed keeping vigil over the sleeping England. He hoped and prayed that he would wake up soon, but that didn't seem to be the case. America went downstairs twice. Once for a quick breakfast of a single muffin, and then again for a quick sandwich for lunch. Both he ate upstairs not wanting to be away from England for a single second.

Waiting began to bore the young impatient nation. He grabbed a random book off the shelve and began reading it not caring what it was about. He just wanted something to do while he waited for England to wake up.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, England began to stir. His began to gasp a little as though he had been underwater. It seemed that he was breathing better now that he was beginning to wake up. America threw the book down and leaned over frantically and excitedly. "Hey Iggy," America said softly, "Iggy... Iggy." Finally the older nation opened his emerald green eyes and looked up into the face of the blonde haired blue eyed young man who had been so worried.

"There you are!" America exclaimed, but not too loudly, "Thank God you're awake. I don't know what I would have done had you not woken up soon. I mean you were just so sick and-" He cut himself off noticing he was rambling from excitement. Blushing he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got drunk and a truck ran over me," England said hoarsely. It was the truth. His head was pounding and his left hand hurt more then anyone could imagine. He felt like utter and complete shit.

"Well that's good!" America exclaimed before he could catch himself, "I mean, it's not good, but at least you're awake now, right?"

England didn't hear him. Instead his mind began racing with a million thoughts. One thought was able to stick in his mind for more than a few minutes. He was at Alfred's house and it was sunny. His plane was supposed to leave at 7am meaning he had to be up before it got light outside. "My flight," England yelled sitting up quickly, "I'm going to miss my flight!" Before America could grab him, he got up and bolted for his suitcase. Unfortunately for him, he still was not fully recovered and his dizziness sent him to the ground. Thankfully, America was able to catch him before he hit the ground.

"What are you doing, you stupid crazy person?" America shouted, "You're sick with a 105 fever and you want to _leave_?" He helped England stand upright and led him to the bed. He had the older nation lie back down as he tucked him in again. He grabbed the thermometer off the bedside table and without a word stuck it in his mouth.

"What were you thinking?" America asked. Now it was time for him to be the scolding parent and England to be the bad child. "You're sick and you jumped out of bed? What if I wasn't here to catch you. You would have hit the cold hard floor and things would have went from worse to... to... Well really, really worse! And what was with you getting out of bed in the middle of the night? I know you just wanted me to be comfortable, but you have a fever. You're seriously sick."

England stared at America for a long time never having experienced this mature side of the young nation. "I... I'm sorry, Alfred," He mumbled. You could hardly make out what he was saying because the thermometer was blocking his speaking, "It's just that I'm not sick. And I don't need your help. I'm fine; I promise."

With that the thermometer beeped and America took it out of England's mouth. "Well, you just broke your promise," America replied reading the screen, "You have a 104.8 fever. That's the bad news. The good news is that it finally went down." He placed the thermometer on the table and studied England's face for a moment. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and he seemed to be almost panting. His breathing, though a bit better, was still labored and stressed.

"'I know you're a big strong country,'" America said from memory, "'But you're sick and that's that. I know you don't like being the one that has to take a knee, but now you really need to rest. I'll be here and I'll protect you. All you need to do is get better.'" America smiled pleased that he was able to remember so much.

England smiled just the slightest bit. "I used to tell you that when you were younger and got sick," he said, "I never thought that you would remember it after so long."

"It's amazing the things I remember. And I honestly wasn't sick that often. It's so weird I even remembered it," America laughed.

"Do you have any water?" England asked with somewhat high spirits, "My throat is so hoarse right now." He blushed at having to ask someone for something.

America smacked his forehead with his hand. "Of course!" he exclaimed feeling so stupid that he hadn't offered water before. "Here, let me run downstairs and grab some." With that he bolted out of the room and down the stairs into the kitchen. America ran faster than he ever had in his house. He was back upstairs with a fresh glass of ice cold water in just under a minute. Panting he handed the water to England and helped him sit up to drink it.

"Mattie's real worried," America said while England was sipping his water, "We should call him when you're feeling up to it."

England nearly chocked on his water. Coughing just a bit from the surprise he glared up at the young nation. "Why in the hell would you do that?" He asked, "You probably scared the living daylights out of him. What? Did you tell him that I was dying or something? You stupid bloody git!" More dots of sweat appeared on England's forehead. It was obvious he was over exerting himself.

"Hey, calm down," America said touching England's shoulder lightly, "You need to take it easy. And... And I only told him because... Because I had no clue what to do, Ok?" He blushed and looked down at his feet. "Besides. Mattie is your son too, you know. Even if you _are_ just a foster father... Person... Thing." America smiled and laughed hoping that England would too, "He deserved to know."

"I guess you're right," England said smile just a little bit, "He's not going to cut his and Peter's vacation short to come down here, is he?"

"He would if he could," America said solemnly, "But we're snowed in, England. We're trapped."

"Wh... What?" England asked astonished.

"Trust me, if the roads were clear you would have woken up in a hospital," America explained, "Or, at least I would have been able to get you some medicine. But we're snowed in and that's that. Forget about your flight. It was more than likely canceled anyway."

"Bloody hell," England whispered to himself finishing the last of his water.

"It's Ok," America reassured, "We'll get out of this real soon. Remember, I'm a hero!" He flashed his friend a toothy smile and a thumbs up. All that was missing was a waving American flag. England couldn't help but let a small laugh escape him. America's expression softened. "Now go back to sleep. I think that's the best thing for you right now. Plus, you're probably tired anyway, right?"

England nodded. "To tell you the truth I just want to get rid of this blasted headache," he replied, "And I guess I'm a little sick. But just a little."

America laughed as he tucked England back into bed. "Yeah, only a little," he replied knowing that it was much more than 'a little.'

"By the way," England started, "What happened to my hand?" He tried to lift the crippled hand, but it felt like dead weight.

America picked the hand up and felt around it waiting as long as he could manage before he would be forced to say something. "When you collapsed in the kitchen, you were holding a knife. When you fell, the knife got stuck in your hand. The cut is pretty deep. You might not want to look at it right now."

The older nation nodded taking the news rather well. "Yes, I think I'll pass on inspecting it," he replied. He paused for a moment keeping his hand in America's simply for the comfort. "I'm sorry, Alfred," He said after about a minute. "I should have listened to you. God, I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid, Iggy," America told the older nation, "I'm just easy to argue with. Heck, I probably would have argued with myself if I was in your shoes." He paused to smile at his friend. "I have another fish. When you're feeling up to it maybe we could cook it... Together. When you're not sick anymore and not a moment sooner!" It was a small offer, but it made both nations feel a little better.

"Ok," England replied with a slight weary smile, "That would be nice."

"Now go to sleep. I'll be here," America promised as the Britt quickly fell back to sleep. America placed a cool compress on his forehead and rewrapped the damaged hand. The cut was almost closed. Surely it would be completely closed by the next time America changed the wrappings. When he was finished, he got up and stared at the sleeping form in the small but comfy bed. He decided that he would be able to leave him for just a little while to go downstairs and dig out the old radio. Maybe he could pick up a signal and find out when the roads would be plowed. He shut the blinds against the useless sun leaving a sleeping England to rest comfortably.

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_Thanks for reading! :D_

_Now for your surprise... This is serious. Very, very serious. SO SERIOUS that I need to bold it and put dramatic pauses between almost every word_

**_Next chapter... Be prepared... For... Chicken... Noodle... Soup!_**

**_That's right. Next chapter will include chicken noodle soup. And guess who's too weak to lift the spoon BY HIMSELF? :3  
(if you don't get that hint, just don't bother hurting yourself over it...)  
_**

_(The funny thing is I had this planned before a reviewer mentioned it xP By the way, those who faved my story are AWESOME! Those who review are even more AWESOME than PRUSSIA :D _


	5. Chicken Noodle Soup

_A new chapter! And as promised some Chicken noodle soup and... An unwelcome surprise at the end. Or welcome. I dunno. It all depends on your view point and how you feel about Iggy-kun :3_

_Anyway, I plan to update tomorrow but probably not on Thanksgiving. I'm going to try to keep it every other day, though. I might also update Friday, but it depends on how much I get done this week. And by the way, YAY FOR NO SCHOOL!  
Also, thanks to all the reviewers. I had a really crappy day yesterday and you guys just made it all better. Thanks :3 Anyway, Enjoy!

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_

"Shit, Mattie! What am I going to do?" America cried into his cellphone. He was pacing around the kitchen trying to get a grip on the situation. The radio had announced that the plows wouldn't be able to plow the city for another three days and the country roads would have to wait an extra two. That meant being trapped in a house with no way to help England.

"Hey, calm down," Canada said to his brother, "I'm sure they're just exaggerating. It will probably only be three days tops."

"No, Mattie," America said darkly, "New York lies, but they always tell the truth when it comes to plowing the roads. If they didn't all the generic businessmen would get angry."

"By the way, Alfred," Canada said trying to change the subject, "How is England? You haven't mentioned him yet. Has anything changed?"

America nodded although no one was around. "Yeah. He woke up a little while ago," America replied, "I would have called right then, but he didn't seem up to it. Kept insisting that he wasn't sick or whatever. Plus, he was a little angry that I told you." America laughed at that. "Heh. But he's Ok with it now. He just didn't want you to worry. His fever's gone down a little too. Last I checked it was 104.8. Not great, but it could be worse; and don't tell me it couldn't because I know damn well it could."

"At least he's feeling better," Canada commented, "Maybe when he wakes up you could make him some soup and a cup of tea."

"The soup I can do, but have you _ever_ seen tea at my house?" America laughed.

"True," Canada smiled, "But it was just a suggestion. Maybe check his suitcase. I could have sworn he was drinking tea on Thanksgiving."

"You know, for anyone else that would be a stupid idea," America said, "But with England, you're probably right." America thought a moment about Thanksgiving. With everything that had happened, that holiday seemed weeks in the past when it really was just a few days ago. America had been right. It had been a long day. Without the television or computer to keep him busy the day seemed really boring. With England being sick on top of that, the minutes dragged on like hours.

"And how are you doing?" Canada asked his brother. America only talked about how England was. Canada was a little worried for his brother's own health.

"I'm fine, I guess," America replied honestly, "I think I'm just a little stressed, you know? It feels weird, Mattie. We were always the ones who got sick, not him. And even when he was sick he tried to hide it from us so we wouldn't get upset. Now I feel it's like the other way around."

"Don't stress yourself out so much, Alfred," Canada tried, "Everything is going to be Ok. England will get better and the storm will pass. And then everything will get back to normal."

"I sure hope you're right, Mattie," America said solemnly, "I really hope you're right." The two talked a little after that but it was all just meaningless gossip. Neither of the brothers were really listening to each other; their minds were on other things. They hung up a few minutes later leaving America all alone in the quiet small house. He could have had a bigger house if he wanted, but he really enjoyed the small-town country lifestyle. Besides, if he lived in a larger house it would feel just that much emptier.

America checked his phone. It was 5:30pm. He was actually just starting to get hungry. He also couldn't help but wonder if England was hungry and if he would even be able to stomach something as simple as soup.

Taking Canada's advice, America went upstairs to the guestroom where England still lay asleep. He shifted through England's suitcase digging past clothes and toiletries. Finally he came across a box of tea packets. "Perfect," America thought, "This will get him feeling better in no time!"

He ran back downstairs and started to boil some water. Being unfamiliar with how to make tea, he had to follow the instructions on the back of the box. While the water was boiling, America also got out a box of chicken noodle soup, something that the older nation had always given America when he was sick. England had also tried to give him tea before, but being a fickle child he had always begged for hot chocolate instead.

When the water was done boiling, he put some of the water in a cup for tea and left the rest in to help cook the soup. America watched with awe as the brown tea packet dissolved in the hot water. Maybe he would have some tea later just to watch that amazing sight again. As the soup was cooking, he dug out a breakfast-in-bed tray that he had gotten for Christmas a few years ago, but had forgotten about it because he never used it. He placed the hot tea on the tray and, when the soup was done, placed a piping hot bowl of chicken noodle soup on the tray as well. Being extremely careful not to drop it, he climbed the stairs slowly so he wouldn't spill anything.

Luckily he left the door open just a crack so all he had to do was push it open with his behind. Turning around, he noticed that England was still asleep. He set the tray down on the nightstand and placed the thermometer in the older nation's mouth. He then let the blinds up as the last bit of sun dripped into the room. The thermometer beeped and he quickly grabbed the device out of England's mouth. 104.6. It had gone down a little bit, but not as much as he had hoped. Maybe after one more night of sleep his fever would go down to a low grade temp.

"Hey, England?" he asked the sleeping nation, "Time to eat. I brought you tea and soup. And I promise, the soup is not deep fried!" He lightly shook him while whispering his name. After a few moments the sick nation began to stir and gazed up into America's blue eyes.

"Hey!" America greeted, "I brought you some food if you feel like eating." He handed England a cup of water that had been left upstairs hoping that it wasn't already stale.

"Thank you," England said to the bed sheets after he had finished his water. America set the tray over England's lap and stirred the soup a little more. He helped England sit up to eat his food.

"What's this?" England asked pointing to the cup of tea.

"That's tea!" America exclaimed proud that he was able to figure out how to make it.

"Where did you get this? On Thanksgiving you told me you had no tea," England replied looking up at America with a confused look on his face.

"I found it in your suitcase," America answered truthfully, "I knew you had tea on Thanksgiving anyway. It's just like you to bring some along with you." He smiled to let England know that he was joking.

England smiled just a little big back and stared at the soup. A few minutes passed and he hadn't touched it.

"What's wrong?" America asked afraid he had done something incorrectly.

"Nothing," England replied, "I just don't feel like eating."

"How can you not feel like eating?" America asked worriedly, "You haven't eaten anything since the last break at the World Meeting yesterday! I know you're not feeling well, Iggy, but you absolutely have to eat something." America begged with his eyes. He pleaded with England through silent words to _please_ pick up the spoon and eat.

"Al.. Alright, Alfred," England said. He picked up the spoon with his right hand and tried to balance a few noodles and a slice of chicken on the small silver utensil. But England was too weak to hold the spoon in place for long. It slipped out of his hand and landed with a crash back into the bowl. England blushed and reached for the spoon again.

"Stop," America commanded, "You don't want to eat because you knew you couldn't hold the spoon right?" England nodded silently. "Why didn't you tell me? Iggy!" America pleaded. He sighed and sat down on the chair by the bed. "England, you're sick. If you can't do something, tell me! I'll help, I promise! When you're better you can go back to yelling at me and calling me a 'stupid American,' 'kay?" He smiled at this knowing that it was almost kinda true. "Now, do you need any help with your soup?" America asked. "And if you say anything other than 'yes' I'll know you're lying!" He quickly added.

"Fine," England mumbled crossing his arms. America could have been a jerk about it and totally abused the situation by making him say it louder, but just the simple fact that England has said 'fine' amazed America to no end.

"Alright then," America said he picked up the spoon and got a small amount of noodles and a slice of chicken on it. He moved the spoon slowly towards England's mouth trying not to spill a single drop. England reluctantly opened his mouth allowing the spoon carrying the hot soup to enter his mouth. America slipped the spoon out while England slowly chewed and swallowed. He repeated these steps a few times until the soup was almost gone. Then he helped England sip his tea all the while in an awkward silence that England had brought upon himself.

"You good?" America asked when the tea and soup were gone, "Or are you still hungry?"

"I'm fine," England mumbled, "And... Well... Th... Thanks. I guess." A deep red blush spread across his face and America could tell that he was very embarrassed.

"No problem," America said softly, leaving it at that. He then helped England into the bathroom to allow him to brush his teeth and other 'business.' England felt very heavy and America wondered if he shouldn't leave him in the small upstairs bathroom all by himself. But England insisted, and America obliged. After finishing up, America brought England back to the bedroom and tucked him in again for bed. England had hardly said a word and tried not to make eye contact with the younger nation. A hint of red still lingered on his cheeks; and it wasn't the fever.

"You look better," America noted, "I mean, you don't look as pale."

"Thanks," England said making eye contact with the nation for the first time in about a half hour, "And Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"For?"

"You know..."

"Yeah, I know," America smiled, "And you're welcome." America realized that it would be hard for England to thank him for everything he had done so far. That's just the way the old nation was. He just didn't want to worry anyone. He was almost as bad a Canada if you thought about it, but the difference between him and Canada was the sole fact that Canada would not argue like England did. That was just England's character; and America loved every bit of it.

By the time America had reached the doorway, England was already asleep. Checking his phone it was 9:00pm. He went back downstairs to fetch a cool cloth and more bandage. Running back upstairs he placed the cool cloth on England's forehead. He gently unwrapped the damaged hand. The wound had closed but it still was screaming red and looked horrible. If that didn't leave a scar, it would be a miracle. As he rewrapped the hand he began to feel tired. It had been yet another long day. Usually on a day off, America would be watching television or just sitting outside. But today had been one of the most stressful days of his life.

As he took England's temperature, he set up the small cot that used to reside in the guest room before he had remodeled it. He still wanted to be near England but, although the chair was comfortable, it didn't feel too great after sleeping in it all night.

The thermometer beeped and America grabbed it and checked it. 103! Yes! Finally the stupid fever was going down. Maybe by tomorrow England would just have a small cold. America went to sleep feeling the best he had all that day.

* * *

America awoke to a strange sound he thought he had never heard before. Rubbing his eyes at the sun he quickly checked his phone. 8:23am. He had slept later and felt better then he had in days. But that sound gnawed at the back of his mind. What the hell was it?

America got up and crossed the room to where England still lay asleep. He noticed that the weird sound was coming from the sick nation's heavy breathing. Thinking nothing of it for the time, or maybe just generally trying to ignore it, America stuck the thermometer back into England's mouth. He then slowly unwrapped the bandage and gasped in horror. The hand was beat red, the color of blood. It was sticky and sweaty and felt hot to the touch. Yellow pus was oozing out of the small little hole in the center of the wound that hadn't closed up yet.

Before America could react to that sight, the thermometer beeped. He snatched it out of England's mouth and his heart plummeted to the floor. 106.4. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the hand was horribly infected.

America's fist slammed on the table as hot tears dotted his eyes threatening to overflow.

"Shit! Goddammit... FUCK!"

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_Sorry I'm attempting to kill you England. But hey! Look on the bright side... Well there is none for England, but it's a surprise plot twist for everyone else :D_

_Review please ~ You guys are amazing :D _


	6. Numb

_So, Happy Thanksgiving :D As promised, the 6th chapter. _

_I also wrote another story that's sort of a prequel to this story. It takes place on Thanksgiving, before the events of chapter 1. So check it out for some Thanksgiving Fluff :D_

_Anyway, enjoy (and please don't kill me... PLEASE D:) _

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America dialed the phone as fast as he could. He didn't have Canada on speed dial like he maybe should have, but he dialed the number faster than speed dial ever could. After the third ring, Canada finally picked up.

"Hello?" Canada asked, "Alfred, is that you? How is everything?"

"Hey," America said quickly, "Yeah it's me and everything is going horribly, horribly wrong!" His voice was unnaturally high and he was panicking with every second.

"Wha…?" Canada asked surprised, "What happened? Tell me, Alfred!" America's panicking had gotten Canada upset too. Now both brothers were upset and worried.

"It's Arthur's hand!" America explained, "I think it got infected! His fever's up to 106 and his hand is bright red with pus oozing out of the wound." America shuddered at the thought of England's damaged, now infected hand.

"What? Alfred! What are we going to do?" Canada asked near tears. America knew better than to get his brother all worked up, but now was not the time to soften things for the more introverted nation.

"Calm down Mattie," America said although he himself was not calm, "Just… Are you near a computer? Or a library or something?"

"Yeah actually," Canada replied, "I'm at home in my computer room."

"Good," America sighed, "Now go online and see what you can find about treating an infected hand with no way to get to a doctor."

"If you can call me, why not call a doctor?" Canada asked.

"Because nobody would be able to get to us and I don't have time to wait around. This is bad, Mattie, really, really bad. I need to treat this thing now. There's no time to wait around for some doctor dude or something," America replied panicking, "Now just look up what to do."

"On it," Canada said. America could hear Canada sit down heavily on the desk. He heard the typing of the keyboard. "Ok," Canada said after a few minutes that felt like a few hours, "'The warning signs of an infected hand are bright redness around the area, the area and/or wound being hot to the touch, sweaty, stickiness around the area, and yellow pus coming from the wound. Ways to treat an infected hand: If the wound is still open, drain the pus out and wash at least twice a day. If it is closed or almost closed, cut the wound back open and drain the pus out and wash at least twice a day. You should go to a doctor so you can put the injured person on antibiotics.'"

"What could I use to cut the wound back open?" America asked.

"I dunno," Canada replied, "Maybe a knife or scissors. But I would sanitize it before you used it." America grimaced at the thought of having to reopen the ugly wound. But he knew that if England was ever going to get better, he would be forced to.

"Ok, I can do," America said glancing at the notes he had taken while Canada was reading, "Thanks. Uh… And how long… You know?"

"It said a week," Canada said grimly, "But it could be sooner with such a high fever."

"Shit," America swore, "Ok, I'll get him back to normal before a week is over. I promise. Remember, I'm the hero, right? Thanks, Mattie. And don't stress yourself out over this."

"I was going to tell you the same thing," Canada replied solemnly. The two talked for just a short while longer. Sealand was doing well and, although had planned to leave the next day, wanted to stay just a little longer because he was having so much fun. They both agreed that he probably just wanted to be closer to the rest of the family. They hung up the phone with America promising to call within the next five hours.

The house was eerily silent and America felt like he was going to burst into tears. All yesterday it seemed like it was getting better. He could have sworn that he did the right things. All he wanted was for England to get better. For a few hours, things seemed so promising. Why did everything have to backfire at such a critical time?

America walked into the kitchen as if in a daze. He was looking for anything he could use to reopen the wound and drain the pus out. He stopped by the sink to scrub his hands. While the warm water was running over his now numb hands, he glanced around the room. The sun shone in through the window setting everything on fire. His eyes then flickered around the counter until they landed on a certain knife that was still stained with England's bright red blood. He had brought it back downstairs but with everything happening he never got the chance to clean it up. Now that the situation had changed, America contemplated throwing it out. He would probably never use it again after this happened. Rather then blame the person who was holding the knife, he decided to blame the knife itself for stabbing his friend and making him so sick. The knife was a dirty, vile thing that needed to be killed-not that you can actually kill a knife.

When America had finished washing his hands, he grabbed a pair of scissors and washed them ignoring the disguising knife all together. When he was finished washing the scissors, he went upstairs bringing an ice cold compress with him.

When he entered the room, England was still asleep, but his face and body were wet from sweat that had built up due to the fever. Even the sheets were damp and America promised himself that he would change them when England was in a better condition. America changed the compress on his forehead and began to unwrap the wound.

The wound was still beat red and America had to admit to himself that he had almost hoped that it would have magically healed. In his perfect world, England would be up and feeling better, the wound would be all healed up, and England's fever would not be 106! That was the thing that got to America the most. With everything he had done to keep the fever down, it still hadn't helped at all. He knew that with an infection a fever was sure to come, but he still felt guilty as if something he had done had magically made England as sick as he now was.

America wanted to close his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the horrible sight that would soon become England's open wound. But if he kept his eyes closed he would probably end up missing. Taking the now sterilized scissors, he slowly poked the wound open as yellow pus oozed everywhere. America paused and took a towel to dab the stuff up. He then resumed poking the wound open. He stopped when the yellow pus stopped coming out and red blood began to seep out. Taking the towel, he dabbed at the wound. Then he took another towel and put some alcohol on and around the infected sight. He wrapped the hand back up and set it down happy, to be finally done with that horrific task.

He looked back at his friend unsure of what to do next. England was still sweating more than you could shake a stick at. Speaking of shaking, America noticed that he was shivering. He could tell there was a dangerous battle going on inside him between hot and cold. Between good and bad, health and sickness.

America sighed heavily. He had no clue what to do anymore. England's hand was sure to need real, professional medical attention that America could not provide at the moment. America would give anything for the stupid plows to plow his street, but he knew it would take a long time. What if it was too late? No. He couldn't think like that. His eyes flickered to the window where he saw that the snow had finally stopped. At least that was good news. Maybe he could brave the snow and bring England to a hospital himself. No, that wouldn't be good because England might just get worse.

With nothing else to do and having lost his appetite anyways, America stayed where he was. He had a good idea of what to do next, but he had to wait for England to wake up first. So he sat there. While sitting there he had a great chance to think about his feelings. Everything was quiet except for England's heavy breathing so he took the time to think.

Looking at the poor sick nation in his bed, America began to wonder what the feeling was he was getting. It was a weird feeling, one that he had never experienced before. It might have been a mix between love, guilt, and compassion, but America couldn't for the life of him tell. England just looked so... So cute sleeping there. He looked helpless and innocent, which in all respects he truly was. Maybe America did love him, but was too afraid to admit it even to himself.

England had always been a brother to America, so of course he loved him. But even at a young age, America knew that they were not real blood brothers. America was also only a little younger than England. He and England had people under them at almost the same time. America just had fewer people and was not as developed as England. But England helped him grow. He helped him become the nation he is today. He... He...

America shook his head. "I'm being silly, right?" He whispered to England knowing he wouldn't answer, "It's not like that. We're bros, friends, nothing more, right?"

But America sat there, knowing he was wrong.

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_Thank you guys for sticking with the story and reading it :D_

_Next chapter? Oh maybe just a certain sick nation thinking he's a pirate again. Plus a surprise at the end of that chapter. ;) _

_Happy Thanksgiving :D _


	7. Walking the Plank

_Long-ass chapter AHOY! :D I hadn't realized that this was a long chapter until I was proof reading it to be put it  
Again, thank you so much for the reviews. And to the person who told me about what happens in NYC about snow: THANK YOU! Living in a rural part of Ohio means a little bit of snow can cancel school. I've never lived in a big city, so I didn't know. I changed it to 3 feet. I hope it doesn't break the story or something xP_

_Anyway, I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I did :) And to the person who said it was her brother's birthday yesterday, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU ~ (and don't worry, it showed up as Nov. 25th on the review thing). _

_Anyway after a long-ass authors note to go with a long-ass chapter, let's begin :D ~_

_

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_

America sat by England's side until he finally began to stir again. "England?" America asked as the other nation slowly began to wake up. Emerald green eyes stared up at the worried nation. "Hey! There you are. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," England replied hoarsely, "How much did I drink last night?"

"Nothing," America replied helping him sit up and handing him a glass of water, "You were in bed all night. And there's no way in hell I'm letting you have any alcohol so don't even try."

"I know I drank last night," England insisted, "Spain was trying to attack and I was just finishing a nice bottle of rum."

"Wh... England?" America asked, "I think you just had a dream."

"It wasn't a dream," England shouted, "Now go to the kitchen quarters and grab me my bottle of rum. I'm going to get dressed and head to the top to check on whoever is at the wheel. Who is at the wheel? It better not be Andrew again."

Oh shit. England wasn't just dreaming. He was delusional. What's worse? He thought he was still a pirate. "Uh... No. No Andrew is not at the wheel," America said unsure of what to do, "But you can't get up right now."

"And why the bloody hell not? I swear to God William! I have work to do!" England cried.

William? America didn't know whether to laugh or cry or both. England was obviously not himself at the moment. Maybe a nice cool ice bath would get him back to normal. "Because... Because when they attacked, your hand was injured. So you can't get up because you'll loose your balance," America replied hoping that England would buy it.

England stared at him for a moment and America was almost afraid that he wasn't going to believe him. "Alright," England said, "Now draw me a bath, William. I feel dirty."

America couldn't have put it any better himself. "Alright. Just don't leave this bed, Ok?" America commanded.

"I am the captain here and I will do as I please," England scoffed, "Don't make me make you walk the plank."

"Err... What?" America asked, "Never mind. I'm going to start the bath. I'll be right back." America ran into the bathroom and turned started the water on cold. He plugged up the tub and then ran back into the guest room where England was still sitting with his arms folded.

"Ok, so I'm going to bring you into the bathroom, Ok?" America asked uncomfortably. He walked over to the bed and took England's hand. He helped the sick nation to stand and adjusted the weight so, while England could walk, most of his weight was on America. Together they walked down the hall and to America's room.

America pushed aside the double doors to reveal a room he hadn't slept in for what seemed like weeks. The largest bathroom in the house was in the back of America's large bedroom. Connected to the bedroom was a work desk that was littered with papers. America had come home from the World Meeting with a huge stack of paperwork and dumped it all on the desk. Deadlines were sure to be approaching soon, but America couldn't think about that at the moment.

He guided England into the master bathroom and sat him down on the toilet. He turned off the faucet and felt the water. It was cold, but not too cold. Just perfect, for England at least.

"Ok, I'm going to take off your Pj's and wash them with the bed sheets. But I'm going to leave your boxers on, Ok?" America asked.

"I don't care," England huffed.

"What's wrong?" America dared to ask as he unbuttoned England's mint green top.

"That bastard France never lets up, does he," England mumbled to himself, "He keeps attacking and attacking. I wish he'd just give up. I'm sick of wasting my time."

"Well, he's no match for a big strong country like you," America replied matter-a-factly. He was clearly enjoying England being delusional. He had expected the sick nation to be half asleep while giving him the bath. This was going to be much, much more fun.

"Of course he's no match for me!" England shouted stripped down to nothing but his boxers. America noted with a slight chuckle that they had the British flag printed on them. "I'm the most powerful navel country in the world," England continued, "There's no way in hell I'd loose to a frog like him."

America nodded as he stood England up and guided him over to the tub. He helped him sit down in the cool water. America felt a slight tingle go up England's spine as he stepped for the first time into the chilly water. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but figured it was good. It meant that England was feeling something other than hot.

Once America got England situated in the tub, he stood up and went for the door. "I'm going to start the wash," he said gathering England's discarded night clothes, "I'll be right back. And... Try not to drown and stuff."

"What a stupid request," England huffed, "I'm a _pirate_ why the bloody hell would I of all people drown? Now get out of here you stupid git before I make you walk the plank."

America stifled a laugh and walked out of the bathroom. He went into the guest room and stripped the sweaty sheets off of the bed. America quickly hurried downstairs to the laundry room that was right off the kitchen. He started the wash in the washer and ran back upstairs to the master bathroom.

America entered the bathroom to see England playing with a boat. No, seriously; a boat. It was a toy that America had forgotten he had. He figured it must have been a gift for Christmas or something when he was younger. He must have kept it with him when he moved. It's funny how you keep the weirdest thing when you move and yet loose the things you actually might want or need. Either way, it was pretty funny seeing a delusional England who thinks he's a pirate playing with a ship. It's like bath time with a potty-mouthed little four year old!

"You bastard!" England shouted thrashing the boat around, "I'm going to get you, France. You bloody goddamn git!"

America walked over and knelt down next to England. Feeling England's forehead, he noticed that he wasn't as hot. Maybe this was a good idea after all. America took England's hand and unwrapped the bandage. England was too busy playing with the boat to notice. The wound had puffed up yet again so America took the pair of scissors he had sterilized again and poked the wound open draining the disguising yellow pus out. He dabbed some rubbing alcohol on the wound and grabbed a bar of soap. He washed the wound out and rewrapped it in a new bandage. America set the hand on the side of the tub trying to give England the hint not to get it wet. To reinforce that hint, he placed his hand over the wounded one. He hated to admit it, but it felt really good to have his hand sorta-kinda in England's.

With his free hand, America began working the bar of soap up and down England's back. England was still focused on the boat shouting things like, "Stupid bastard France!" and "Bloody git! I'm going to make you walk the goddamned plank!" America just kept working with the soap, hoping that "pirate" England wouldn't hear him laughing and force him to "walk the plank!" When the soap had been lathered all over the sick nation's body, America took a bucket and poured water over England.

"What the hell was that for, William?" England shouted, "I'm going to have you walk the plank for that one you bloody git. And while we're at war too. What in the hell are you thinking?"

"Sorry, England," America smiled, "But we need to wash your hair now."

"You will address me as 'Captain,'" England huffed crossing his arms. But he made no move to stop America from washing his hair.

America lathered the shampoo and then the conditioner through England's golden hair. He reveled in the moment as much as he would allow himself. He knew that he could never just randomly go up to a completely sane England and just start ruffling his hair. He could only do that when he was little, and he had never appreciated being able to do so back then. England's hair was soft and lush even with water poured on it. It felt great. And America knew that when he was done washing the soft golden hair, he was going to want to touch it again and again.

America poured water on England's head again and rinsed all the soap out. Then he grabbed a small hair towel and dried his hair. "Alright, Eng... Er I mean Captain," America said, "We're going to get out now. I'm going to give you a new pair of boxers to change into. I'll turn around, you just need to change, Ok?"

"Stop treating me like a bloody invalid, William," England said annoyed, "I can get changed myself." America smiled at the nation. This was just too cute!

"Alright,"America said, "Gimme one second. I'm going to go grab your boxers from your suitcase. Stay right here, Ok?" England just nodded, more focused on his toy boat to fully acknowledge America. The young nation ran out of the room and dived into the guestroom. He ripped through the suitcase until he came to the underwear that was packed at the bottom. He pulled out a pair that was generally the exact same as the other ones: blue with the British flag on it. America then ran downstairs to the laundry room and grabbed the now clean mint green Pj's. He then bolted back up to the bathroom. England was still there with his boat.

America grabbed a blue towel off the rack that was hanging by the sink. He then walked over to the tub where he was met with a glare from England who went right back to his boat. "Uh," America began, "Let's get out of the tub now!" England looked as though he was going to yell, but silently stood up. America draped the towel over his wet and now cold body. It was a good cold. It was a cold that meant he was not burning up.

America handed England the pair of boxers to England and telling him to dry himself off stepped out of the room. He kept the Pj's with him because he didn't want England to put them on by himself. He was a little worried about the boxers, actually. He was mostly afraid that England would loose his balance and fall hitting his head on the tub or another hard surface that was in the bathroom. But America knew he had to trust that England would be Ok. It would just be plain weird to... Well, you know.

America tapped on the door about two minutes later. "You good?" America asked. A muffled sound came from behind the door so America decided to take his chances and come back into the room. England had been able to get his boxers on and was standing in the middle of the bathroom with a scowl on his face wearing nothing but his underwear.

Taking his hand, America led him back to the guest room where he sat the sick nation down on the bed and began to dress him. When he was finished he sat England on the chair and ran back downstairs to get the sheets that by now were finished being washed. He ran back up the stairs and back into the guest room.

America began to make the bed while England intently watched. "You know, England," America started trying to make conversation, "I'll bet the snow will begin to melt soon. Then you be on your way to getting better." When England said nothing America stopped and glanced back at him. England nodded but had his eyes fixed on America. "Hey, Iggy?" America asked, "You zoning out or something?" He was afraid that something bad was going to happen. He hoped and prayed that it was just zoning out.

"I'm fine," England huffed, "Just continue making the bed." England continued to stare at the nation. America shrugged and finished making the bed.

"Alright," America said standing upright when he was finished, "I'm going to put you back into bed. I don't want to take any chances. But I'm going to go start making some soup and tea for supper. So be hungry when I bring it." England nodded. America helped England up and plopped him onto the bed. He put him under the covers but didn't pull the blankets all the way up just to see if that would prevent England from falling back asleep. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he did, but America just figured it would be easier to keep the sick nation awake until after dinner.

"Hey, William?" England asked, "Your name isn't William, is it?"

America chuckled a little. "No, silly, of course not. My name is Alfred. Remember? America? Alfred F. Jones."

England's eyes widened. They then softened as he glanced down at the covers. "Alfred, you'll say good night to me, right?"

"Well, yeah. But let's try to stay awake until I bring the soup," America responded.

"Alright."

America took his leave and went down to heat up the soup and tea. When they were done, he brought a tray up to England who had not fallen asleep. America watched intently but happily noted that England was strong enough to feed himself with the spoon. He just needed a little help with the heavy tea cup.

When the mean was finished, America brought the dishes downstairs to wash later. There was a big pile already and America knew it would be a while before he finally got around to washing all the dishes. For now, though, it didn't really matter. America went back upstairs and sat himself down on the chair next to the bed.

"Alfred?" England asked, "Are you going to say goodnight?"

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah, kinda," England replied honestly.

"Then I guess I'll say goodnight right now," America responded with a kind smile. He helped England lay down and pulled the covers up. He tucked the nation into bed and resisted the urge to give him a goodnight kiss. "So I guess you don't think you're a pirate anymore, right?"

"I'm not a pirate anymore, Alfred. You know that."

"Yeah," America chuckled, "I do."

There was a pause. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight? You usually do."

America had only kissed England goodnight when he was little. It was only recently that America had been dying to place a kiss on those soft cheeks or those plush lips. "Y... Yeah," America responded. He told himself it was only because he didn't want to deny a delusional sick nation the right to a kiss. But in reality, it was mostly because he wanted to give England a kiss so badly!

America leaned in and went to peck England on the cheek, but England turned his head around so America's lips hit his! For a second America was surprised but didn't budge. It was beautiful. He looked down and saw that England had his eyes closed. This was obviously what he wanted. America stood there for a moment crouching over England, his lips on his. It was wonderful and felt like it lasted forever. But forever would never be enough for America. The two pulled away and America looked in shock at England.

"Thanks," England said tiredly as he closed his eyes.

"Ye... Yeah. No problem. Goodnight," America responded. He walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. America slid down to the ground. He... His lips... England... What? He had just kissed England. Something he had wanted to do for about a year now but realized that England did not return the feelings. America knew the poor nation was sick, but held onto that glimmer of hope. Maybe England was in his right mind then. Ok, maybe not. But maybe England subconsciously wanted to and it took being delusional or something to make him realize it. Maybe.

America sighed knowing that it was crazy. He went to bed that night on the cot in the guest room thinking about everything that had happened that day. His final thought before falling asleep was "Maybe, just maybe, Iggy does love me. As more than just a little foster brother thing. Maybe if I'm lucky and we actually make it out of this mess, something great will happen. Like Karma... Or something. Yeah.. Maybe."

Just maybe.

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_I should probably take out the "kinda" part in the USUK warning in my summary, shouldn't I? YAY DELUSIONAL IGGY! :D_

_Next chapter is a kinda filler chapter, so I'll have that out tomorrow, I think. Happy Black Friday! Don't get trampled/stabbed/thrown against a wall/beaten by old ladies who want their deals :D _


	8. Tea and Soup

_THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! ~~~_

_I love you guys so much :D So enjoy a menainless filler chapter until tomorrow. I'll have the next chapter up tomorrow and let's just say... Stuff... Happens... ._

_Anyway, enjoy~~

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The sun was just coming up as America awoke to a new day. The snow storm had long past, but the snow had yet to melt under the useless sun. America strolled over to the window and looked out. He couldn't make an accurate judgment, but he guessed that there was about 2 and a half feet of snow on the ground. Maybe if he called someone, they would be able to get to his house.

His eyes shifted over to the sleeping England. Sweat was still stuck to his face but he did look just a little better. Maybe the ice bath had helped just a little bit. America chuckled remembering the events of the day before when England thought that he was still a pirate. America knew that would be a fun story to tell when England woke up. And certainly England was not going to want to hear it so that would make it even more fun.

He then recalled what happened right before England fell asleep again. America still had that hope that England did what he did because he wanted to. Maybe it wasn't just the fever talking. Maybe England honestly, truly loved him. Maybe, but it seemed like such a stupid thought.

America went downstairs and took the last of the muffins he had. Although that meant that there were no more breakfast foods, it would also mean that the muffins wouldn't go stale. He also started boiling water for tea just in case England wanted some when he woke up. America munched on the muffin as he walked upstairs. He wondered when it would be best to call someone to get England to a hospital. Although America had been doing a fair job of keeping England alive these past few days, he also knew that England would only make it if they got to a doctor. America could only do so much. He needed a doctor before something else hit him out of nowhere.

America, for once, was greeted by England awake and trying to sit up. He looked lost and forlorn as though he had no idea how he got there.

England glanced up at America and his eyes widened. "Alfred?" England asked hoarsely, "What are you doing here? And where am I?" To be honest, and even a little rude, he looked worse than he did when he was drunk. That might have just been the fever, but it was still true.

"You're in my house, Arthur," America responded, "Remember? You're sick and you got a knife stuck in your hand. You look better."

"I'm not sick. What am I doing here?" England insisted, "I should be at home. What of my flight?"

"Your flight left two days ago," America said. He thought for a moment thinking why England would all of a sudden forget what had happened. He seemed to understand well the other day. "Hey Iggy?" America asked, "Do you remember anything about yesterday? I gave you an ice bath and… Well… You kinda thought you were a pirate." America stifled a giggle while looking at England for the tiniest hint of recollection.

"N… No," England responded, "A pirate? An ice bath? What in the world happened?"

"Come on, Iggy! Think!" America tried, "Remember when you had chicken noodle soup? And you couldn't lift the spoon so… Ok new memory. Uh… Remember when… When I told you how you missed your flight and told you that thing you used to tell me when I got sick when I was little? Remember?" America's eyes pleaded with England begging him to remember what had happened these past few days.

England sat a moment and stared at the sheets. "I remember that," he finally said, "Yes, I do remember that. You made me tea and it… Well it was better than I thought it would be." He paused at looked up at the now smiling younger nation. "But I don't remember the ice bath," he continued with his eyebrow raised, "Care to tell me what you mean by that?"

"Oh it's nothing," America lied, "Just, well your fever jumped up and I figured that the best thing for it would be to give you a cold bath. So I filled the tub and well… You weren't in your right mind at the time."

England looked stricken. "My 'right mind?'" He asked, "What do you mean by that? What happened?"

"Well, I already told you," America said trying to keep from laughing. "You… Uh… Well… You kinda thought you were a pirate and that France was trying to attack you." America's cheeks puffed up and he was desperately trying to keep from laughing. So far he was failing miserably.

"A… A Pirate?" England asked astounded, "There's no way. I… I thought that was a dream!"

"You thought you had a dream I gave you a bath?" America asked amused at the thought of being in one of England's dreams.

"No, you git," England growled, "That part wasn't in the dream. Just the part of… Well, my seaman days and France." His face was red and he looked extremely embarrassed. America chuckled at the sight.

Then America's thoughts went back to the kiss. He pondered whether or not he should tell England about it. He did have a right to know, but America felt that it would just make things worse. Maybe not as far as his fever goes, but he didn't want to have a strain on a relationship had seemed to be thriving so far.

"So… How did you give me the bath?" England mumbled, "Did you have to take off all my clothes?" His face was beat red and America was almost worried that his fever would spike up again.

"I took off your PJs and washed them along with the bed sheets," America explained, "But I left your boxers on. When you got out, I gave you another pair of boxers and left the room while you changed." America paused for a moment. "Don't worry," he said with a smile and a slight chuckle, "I didn't see anything."

"Well good," England snapped at the younger nation his face color turning back to a pale white.

America chuckled again. "I'm boiling some water downstairs. Would you like some tea?" he asked. At that England's face brightened just a little as he nodded 'yes.'

America hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. He went to the stove and noticed that the water had stopped bubbling and steam was neatly rising into the air. America didn't have a tea kettle so he had been using a regular pot. He poured out the water into a large blue mug and stuck a tea packet in. Taking the mug with him, he returned up the stairs back to England.

England greedily took the mug from America before he could ask if the sick nation needed any help with the heavy mug. England put the warm liquid to his lips easily, enjoying the taste of freshly brewed tea. It wasn't the best and obviously England could have made better, but all that mattered was that for right now he had his tea.

He set the mug down on the nightstand after a long sip. Wiping his mouth with his bare skin he looked up at America. "Thanks," he said, "I really needed that."

America and England chatted for a little while. America gave him some soup and made more tea. He cleaned out the wound as England winced at the harsh feeling rubbing alcohol.

"What happened to it?" England asked looking down at the ugly mangled hand.

"It's infected," America said solemnly after a long pause.

The two said nothing more as America finished with the hand. They talked for a little more about things they wouldn't even remember later. America took England's temperature which was now a much better 103.4.

Sometime around 3pm, they heard voices coming from downstairs. America grabbing the scissors as his only weapon ran downstairs to face the possible intruders. To his surprise, no one was there. It wasn't people talking. Well, actually it was. It was the TV and it was back on. And the clocks in the kitchen were blinking the wrong time. The power had come back on!

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_Sorry about the filler chapter, next chapter will be out tomorrow :D_

_And you're probably all going to stab me tomorrow . _


	9. The Telly

_Please don't hurt me ;_;  
Here's the next chapter. Thanks so much for your continued support and reviews. You guys are absolutely amazing :D

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"England!" America shouted running up the stairs, "England! England! Iggy!" He burst into the room where England was. The sick nation was sitting up just as America had left him only his eyes were wide with surprise and a hint of fear.

"What is it?" England asked, "Is there someone in the house?" England had heard the noise too and was afraid that there was someone who had broken into the house. Although, he would never in a million years admit to being afraid.

"No!" America said, "Even better! The TV's back on!" He was bouncing up and down in excitement.

England gave in a blank stare. "Alfred, I know you love your telly, but I think there are more important things to worry about," England scolded the younger nation.

"No!" America whined, "It's not about watching TV. It's the fact that it's on. The power's back on. That means the bulk of the streets have been cleared. We might be able to get to a hospital. I'll call 911!"

"Wait," England called to the young nation who was heading out the door. America stopped and turned around looking at the sick nation. "I... I'm not sick," he tried, "I feel so much better."

America honestly would have slapped the snot out of England had he not been sick. But he kept his cool. "Arthur," America said in a warning voice, "Your hand is infected and you have a temperature that has only just gone down. Yesterday you thought you were a pirate. Get it through your thick head. You. Are. Sick!" Tears dotted the young nation's eyes. He didn't want to yell at the sick country, but he needed to. England had to accept the fact that he was sick.

England blinked not anticipating this reaction from the younger nation. He looked down at the sheets in defeat. "Sorry, Alfred," England apologized, "But is there really any need to go to a doctor? I mean the... The fever is going down..."

America sighed at England's stubbornness. "The fever was going down two days ago, but it sparked back up to over 106. I'm not taking that chance again, England." _I don't want to loose you... _America blinked surprised that had almost come out of his mouth. "A... Anyway,"America continued trying to regain his thoughts, "I think I'm going to move you downstairs. Hopefully an ambulance will be here soon."

"Wait... An ambulance? I don't need one of those. We could just drive, right?" England asked. He didn't want America to make such a big deal out of something he felt was a trivial matter.

"I would if I could, but I can't," America explained, "It would take all day to get the damn snow off the car. And I'm not waiting until tomorrow to get you to the hospital. I'm not letting anything else take us by surprise. Now, here. Let me help you get downstairs."

He helped England stand up and adjusted himself so that England was leaning mostly on him. They took their steps slowly and together. The steps were a little tricky. It was hard to keep England steady. America held the nation tightly so he wouldn't fall. They were only on the third step when England pulled away, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"Stop holding me so damn tightly," he shouted, "I'm bloody fine!" He seemed dizzy and America grabbed his arm afraid he was going to tumble down the stairs.

"Look," America said sternly, "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but if you fall down now you're going to feel much worse. Now let me hold onto you while I guide you down the rest of the stairs." They climbed down two more stairs with many more to go.

England pulled away. The closeness was too much for the shy, stubborn nation. "I'm fine, you bloody git!" He tore himself away from America before he could catch him. Standing on his own proved to be too difficult for the sick nation as he was far too dizzy to stand fully on his own. He swayed dangerously over the edge of the step. Before America could grab him, England fell over and crashed down the stairs.

"Arthur!" America shouted in horror as his friend hit each hardwood stair with a nasty crash. He practically flew down the large staircase and picked England up in his arms. The now bloody nation had landed awkwardly on his side after hitting the hard wood stairs multiple times. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy. His right arm was pulled back in an unnatural position and America thought it was probably broken.

Trying to keep back tears and almost in a daze, America carried England to the couch. He sat him up being careful not to move his bloody mangled arm. He then ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. But he hadn't started dialing before he noticed his right hand was red. America's eyes widened at the sight instantly realizing that England must have hit his head on the stairs and was now bleeding from the head. Oh _shit_ this was not good!

After a few dials someone finally picked up. "911 what is your emergency?" a woman's calm voice asked.

America wanted to shout at her for being so calm. How could be so damn calm at a time like _this?_ But he kept his temper under control and tried to tell the woman what was wrong. "My... My friend. He... He feel down... Down the stairs... He's bleeding... And... And I think his arm's... His arm's broken," America gasped after nearly every word realizing for the first time the tears that were streaming down his face.

"Where do you live?" The woman asked, "I'll send an ambulance."

America told the woman his address his eyes shifting to the still unconscious England in the living room.

"Is there anything else I should know to tell the EMTs?" the woman asked.

"No... Wait yes!" America said, "He... He has a fever. It's 103 last... Last time I checked. He's been sick since Friday. He collapsed with a 105 fever in... In my kitchen and got a knife stuck in his... In his hand. He... He was getting better, but then... Then the wound got infected... And... And his fever spiked up... It went up to... To 106. It just went down... Down today. But... But now... I don't know... I'm... I'm scared! Oh Jesus Christ please help!" America was full out sobbing begging the woman on the other end to please help him in this desperate situation.

"It's Ok," The woman soothed, "I'm right here. The ambulance should be there in just a little while. Where is the injured man now?"

"He... He's on my couch," America said between long breaths, "He's... He's unconscious."

"See if you can wake him up. It will be much easier if you can."

America nodded bringing the phone with him into the other room. "I... You're still on the line... I'm going to try... Try to wake him up." America set the phone on the coffee table to the woman could hear everything he was going to do. He knelt down in front of England.

"Hey, Arthur," America tried touching him gently, "Hey wake up. Please wake up. Come on dude, you can't sleep now. You're... It's just not a good time, 'kay? So just wake up... Please." America was still crying the tears streaming down his face.

He kept touching and calling England for a few minutes. Finally England shifted on the couch and opened his eyes. "Bloody hell," England croaked out, "What happened." He turned his head just enough to look at America who was kneeling in front of him. "Why are you crying, Alfred? What happened?" He moved his right arm out to touch America's face but yelped in pain.

"Don't move it," America said, "I think it's broken. You... You fell down the stairs. I tried to grab you, but... But I was too late. I'm so sorry England, I'm so, so sorry!"

England looked at America for a moment thinking about what had happened. If he hadn't been so suborn, so stupid, they probably wouldn't be in this mess right now. "I... I'm sorry, Alfred," England said, "It's my fault. It's... Everything is all my fault."

"Don't start crying now," America said trying to force a smile, "You can't stress yourself out now. The ambulance is coming. Just hold on, 'kay?"

Suddenly America heard mumbling from the phone that was laying on the coffee table. He had forgotten all about the woman on the other end. Picking it up he wasn't able to catch what she had just said. "What?" America asked, "I didn't hear you, sorry."

"I asked how is he?" the woman said kindly.

"He's bleeding from both the head and the right arm. But he's conscious. He conscious now."

"That's good," the woman sighed, "The medical team should be on their way. Give it about 10 minutes."

"Alright," America said. He pulled himself onto the couch on England's left side. England looked dizzy, although he might be sick all over America's couch. America took a chance, though, and pulled England close. England rested his head on America's shoulder and closed his eyes. "Now, don't fall asleep," America warned.

"Yeah," England said wearily both knowing full well that he probably would fall back asleep before the medical team arrived. America just kept whispering soothing words to the hurt nation.

After what felt like forever, there was a knock at the door followed by, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Just come in," America called, "The door is unlocked." The door swiftly opened and two men dressed in medical uniforms entered the house. Their eyes fell on America first but then shifted to a now sleeping England.

Saying nothing they motioned for another man to bring in a gurney. They took England from America's loving embrace and placed him on the cold gurney. America followed them out to the driveway where the ambulance was parked. It was cold, but America couldn't feel it. The men loaded England into the back of the ambulance. One came back and approached America.

"What's your relationship to him?" he asked kindly.

"It's kinda complicated," America said not looking him directly in the eyes, "He was like my foster father and brother for a short time. Then we had a fight and became distant from each other. Now, though, we're really close. Like really, _really_, close."

The man nodded solemnly. "Get in the front, ok?" he asked, "There really isn't much room in the back."

America nodded and followed the man to the car. They got in and the car roared to life. It was an odd feeling to the young nation having not been in a car for what seemed like years. As the ambulance drove away, America could feel silent tears streaming down his face.

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_I feel so bad. Let's see, I made Iggy dangerously sick, stabbed him, infected that wound, made him a pirate, and now I pushed him down a flight of steps. Sorry, Iggy. It's all for drama. Take one for the writers, right? He's such a victim of this sick, twisted plot... _

_I still feel kinda bad... xP But I think I'll get over it._

_Anyway, sorry for any OOC-ness. And I promise to stop killing Iggy now :3 _

_And to the review who called me a bitch; Yes. Yes I am a bitch. ~ Review if you can :3 _


	10. What Would You Do?

_Here's another chapter. I'm getting into every other day kinda thing. I don't know how that will work come the end of this week. I'm leaving for a speech turni on Friday and won't be back until Saturday night. I'll figure that out later though xP_

_Nothing much to say for this chapter except I don't like it much. It's an important chapter and I feel I screwed it up as far as the writing goes . Ah well. Thanks again for your reviews. They absolutely make my day! Anyway, enjoy ~_

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Just when things couldn't get any worse, they did. New York is a busy city and, like most other busy cities, New York was... Well, busy. It was rush hour meaning all the generic businessmen who were grumbling about the roads getting plowed were coming home from work. Working in a large city sucks, so they are usually not happy to spend two and a half hours after work trying to get home.

"Shit," America swore looking out the window and seeing the never ending line of cars.

"It's Ok," the driver tried although he didn't seem to mean it, "We have state of the art equipment back there. You're friend... Brother... Thing is fine." He faced America and shot him a fake smile.

"You have to memorize that crappy line for your final exam or something?" America asked bitterly. The man didn't answer and instead returned his focus back to driving the ambulance. America sighed and pulled out his cell phone. He had over twenty new messages and five new voice mail, but ignored it as he dialed Canada's number.

"Hello?" Canada asked picking up on the second ring.

"Hi, Mattie? It's Alfred," America greeted looking nervously out the window.

"Alfred?" Canada asked aggravated, "You were supposed to call me yesterday! What happened? Nothing bad I hope."

America slapped his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry Mattie. I just... Forgot. But no, it hasn't gotten better. Well, was for a little while, but it's worse. Much, much worse."

"What happened?"

"Arthur's fever went down after I treated the hand," America explained, "Today the power went back on, so I figured I'd get the hospital to come and bring Iggy to, you know, get checked out and make sure there was noting else wrong with him. Well, I was bringing him downstairs when he pulled away from me and... And fell down the stairs. I tried to grab him, but I couldn't. He hit his head. It's bleeding in the back. And his arm... I think it's broken."

"Alfred..."

"Mattie, I'm... I'm scared."

"It'll be Ok," Canada said his voice shaking, "We'll be there soon. Ok? You should call the other countries. We can make a list and split it. That sound good?"

"No," America said, "Just get here quick. I'll do the calling."

"You can't do it all..."

"I can," America said cutting him off, "I can and I will. I have to. I'm there hero, Mattie. _I'm_ the hero."

"I know," Canada replied understanding that America didn't want to steal his hero-ness. He just wanted to do things himself. He needed this. "I'll be there soon, I promise. It's Ok. Everything will be Ok." With that the two hung up and America went straight to calling every country he thought of to call.

All the countries were really very sympathetic. Some even promised to come visit or send gifts. America wanted to scream, "He's not flipping dead!" But he didn't. He said thank you and accepted the sympathy. By the time all the countries America could remember had been called, the ambulance was pulling into the emergency room parking lot.

The driver looked back at America, his eyes filled with sympathy. "We're going to get him treated. Just go to desk and check him in. Stay there until someone comes to get you. Your name, sir?"

"Alfred... Alfred F. Jones," America replied getting out of the car. Still in a daze, he wondered into the emergency room and to the desk. He checked in unable to remember what he had said to the nurse at the desk just a few minutes after sitting down. He sat there for what seemed like hours just holding his phone. It was almost out of battery. Still, he flipped through the messages that had appeared only replying to a few of them.

"I heard about England. Let me offer sympathies. I'm sure he will be Ok. I will send gifts," Japan had sent.

"Hi America! It's Italy on Germany's phone! Don't tell him I took it kay? I wanted to say I'm sorry! Want some pasta? I'll send pasta! I hope it stays warm! Oh no! Germany's coming! Bye Amer- Hi America. Sorry the idiot took my phone. I hope England's doing well. Please keep us updated." Even America who normally had a great sense of humor could not find it in him to laugh at that crazy message.

"Oh you poor thing," France had sent, "Let me send some flowers for the sick one, no? Should I come visit?"

"No, it's Ok," America had replied, "I'm sure he will get better. We'll see you at the next world meeting." France sent back a sad crying face and America shut the phone. England _was _going to get better. Plus, the sick nation would not want to see France hanging around at the moment. It was actually for the best that none of the other countries come by. Other than Canada, of course. America needed Canada right now.

The hours went by with no word from the doctors. At about ten that night, the doors to the emergency room opened and Canada walked in. He looked around the waiting room before spotting America sitting with his head in his hands.

"Alfred!" Canada called rushing over to him. He sat down next the the nation and placed his hand on his back. "How are you?" he asked, "Any news?"

America shook his head. "No. They haven't told me anything yet," he replied in an unnaturally monotone voice. They didn't speak much after that. Sealand had gone to the ice cream shop just a few blocks down the road and bought some ice cream for the three of them. Sealand ate his practically all in one bite and Canada nibbled on his. But America was too tired and depressed to even so much as touch the sugary, creamy treat. Canada was a little worried but figured it was only normal at a time like this.

It wasn't long before Canada had two sleeping nations on his lap. America had fallen asleep shortly after Sealand. It was odd to the large nation. When they were younger, it was always Alfred who watched over him. Now it was the opposite. Canada fell asleep just a short while after the other two, but having no lap to lay on, he just fell slept sitting straight up in the chair.

After a few hours that seemed like minutes to Canada, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up into the eyes of a woman. Although it was dark, Canada could tell she was wearing purple scrubs like most of the other nurses. "Hey," she greeted warmly, "Are you here for Mr. Arthur Kirkland?" she asked. Canada, not being able to find his voice, simply nodded. The woman smiled kindly. "He's out of surgery, but is still asleep. You have special permission to see him first thing in the morning when you wake up. Just tell them you're here for Mr. Kirkland and they should let you in. I'm sorry to wake you. I just thought you should know."

"Thank you," Canada said tiredly. He glanced at the digital clock that was placed on the wall next to the exit sign. It was only 2:34 in the morning. He looked down and saw that America and Sealand were still sound asleep. Sighing, he closed his eyes again and fell asleep hoping that morning would come quickly.

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The early morning sunlight was intense and trying to get through America's closed eyelids and into the depths of his eyes. He opened them and then quickly closed his eyes against the merciless sun. Slowly and carefully he opened his eyes again to find himself laying down on Canada's lap. He could feel Canada breathing with every passing second and knew he was still asleep. America sat up quietly and slowly, trying not to wake his brother. He stood up and stretched. Glancing at the clock, he noticed that it was only 6:45 in the morning.

Looking around again, he noticed that a different nurse at the front desk was trying to wave him over. America nodded and walked over to the desk.

"Hey," The woman greeted, "How are you feeling? Those chairs aren't very comfortable, you know." She gave America a soft smile.

"I'm fine," America responded still a little curious as to what the woman could want from him.

"You're with a Mr. Arthur Kirkland?" the woman asked. America just nodded. "He's down this hallway," the woman pointed, "Three doors down to the left. Room 121. You can go see him. Just be quiet." The woman's eyes shifted over to Canada and Sealand who were still asleep. "Only two visitors at a time, please, and no one under 13. Sorry. It's just the policy around here."

America nodded. "Thank you Miss," he paused reading the woman's name tag, "Jane." He smiled as best he could at a time like this and went back to the little section of the waiting room he, Canada, and Sealand had claimed.

"Hey, Mattie," America said gently shaking Canada awake. Canada opened his eyes and tiredly looked at America. "We can go see Iggy now. The nurse said it was Ok." Canada didn't say anything but his eyes opened a little wider. Taking off his jacket, he got up quietly trying not to wake a still sleeping Sealand. He placed the jacket under the boy's head to offer a little support. Together the two nations walked down the hall to England's room.

England was still asleep in the lonely little hospital bed. He was hooked up to what looked like hundreds of wires all going various places. Some led to a monitor while others went places America couldn't quite trace. England was laying under a thin blanket with his mint green Pjs folded on the nightstand next to him. His arm was wrapped in a cast and his head was wrapped in a white bandage that went all the way around his head.

America and Canada sat down on the two chairs that were placed in the room. America grabbed England's left hand that was wrapped in a bandage. He held it tenderly but did not let go. Neither Canada nor America said anything. Once Canada went out to go tell Sealand where they were but came back quickly.

A few hours passed and there seemed to be no change. England did not look any closer to waking up than he had that morning. At about 2:15 that afternoon, the door to England's room opened and a doctor dressed in white came in. He smiled kindly when America and Canada looked up at him.

"Hello," he said, "How is everyone?" The boys nodded unsure of what to say. "What are your relationships with uh...," the doctor faltered as he checked the clipboard he was conveniently holding, "Mr. Kirkland."

"Well you see...," Canada began.

"He's our brother and was our guardian when we were little," America cut off. He didn't want to shut Canada up, but he also didn't want to go into some long explanation. It had just been too long a day for that.

The doctor nodded. He walked over to the bed and checked the various monitors and lines that were hooked up to England. "He's should be fine," the doctor smiled after a few minutes, "His infected hand should be better by tomorrow. His fever's down to about 102. The only things he will leave the hospital with is a fractured arm and some antibiotics. We just need to watch his head and make sure there's nothing serious going on. He also needs another surgery on his arm. But after that, he should be fine."

"That's good!" Canada clapped happy to hear that England would be Ok.

"We're going to keep him here this week, though. I'm sorry for any inconvenience, but we need to make sure he's Ok," the doctor explained as he walked out the door.

The brothers sat in more silence for a few minutes. Then America turned to Canada. "Mattie," he asked, "Wanna play a game?"

Canada was a little taken aback by the request but figured that it might be a good idea to get their minds off of the current situation for a few minutes. Little did Canada know, the game would soon take a serious turn. "Sure," he said, "What do you want to play?"

"'What Would You Do or Say,'" America said quickly reminding Canada of the game the two made up when they were younger. "I'll start. Mattie, what would you do if you won a million dollars?"

Canada paused to think for a moment. "I'd go on vacation with you, Peter, and Arthur. We'd have a lot of fun," he finally answered, "Ok. What would you do if they closed McDonnalds?"

America's eyes widened in mock horror. "I'd cry," he said with a straight face that sent the two countries into a fit of giggles. "Mattie, what would you do if you won a year's supply of pancakes?"

Canada paused for a moment. "My version of a year's supply, or a normal person's version of a year's supply?"

"Your version."

"I'd eat them, of course. But I'd need a year's supply of maple syrup to go with it!" Canada laughed. "What would you do if I got you a dog for Christmas?"

"I'd keep it and call it Charles," America answered.

"Why Charles?"

"Because Charles is the name of a hero!" America smiled. The two laughed for a few moments. Then America's face turned grim. "What would you say... If I told you that I... I was in love with Arthur?" America asked in an all too serious voice.

Canada looked at America in shock at how quickly the game had taken a dark turn. "I... I'd," Canada stammered. Then he sighed. "Honestly, I'd say 'finally!'" Seeing America's confused face he continued. "I always knew you two were falling for each other. You just wouldn't admit it. Either way, if your asking if I'd support you, of course I would. You two are soul mates. I can tell." Canada shot America a reassuring smile. As he stood up, he patted America on the shoulder. "I'm going to take Peter to the diner down the street. Want anything?"

America shook his head knowing Canada would bring him something anyway. He was too busy getting lost in his thoughts. He didn't even hear Canada shut the door as he was left in the silent room with a still sleeping England.

* * *

_Uggg I write like crap ._

_At least Iggy's Ok, though, right xP_

_Sealand's just kinda hanging around, isn't he? Sorry, he's just here 'cause I felt like it. He doesn't do too much, but he sure it cute ;D  
I hope I explained everything alright. ._

_Anyway, thanks so, so much for your reviews. You guys are just amazing! I have never had a story get this many reviews and it just makes me want to write and write. I LOVE you guys :D _


	11. The Teddy Bear

_100 CHEESE WHISTLING, BURGER FLIPPING, USUK FLUFFING REVIEWS! DUDE I FLIPPING LOVE YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH~~~~~_

_I was in my room when I got the 100th review and I was like "HELL YEAH!" And my mom was like "What ." And I was like "ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS~~!" And my mom was like "... Great now go empty the dishwasher..." And I was like "damn..." (ok, so Poland has invaded my author's note...)_

_But yeah, I'm super excited! HOLY CRAP I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH. _

_Anyway, I don't like how I wrote this chapter. . But here's the story for now. There's an A/N at the bottom discussing when the next update will be. For now, though, enjoy~

* * *

_

It wasn't long before England finally began to stir again. America scooted closer to the bed trying to be the first thing England would see upon opening his eyes. England opened his emerald green eyes and looked up into America's loving face. Unaware of himself, he smiled a small 'hi' before wincing in pain.

"Shh," America commanded, "It's Ok. You're in the hospital. You're going to be Ok. I promise." He began to stroke England's blonde hair forgetting his reservations. The room had disappeared. The only things in America's world were him and an England that needed him.

"My head hurts," England said hoarsely.

"You hit your head when you fell down the stairs," America explained, "You also fractured your arm, I think. But it's Ok. Everything's Ok."

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" England asked, "That I was in the hospital."

America nodded. "I had to, Iggy," America explained to England's stricken face, "If by chance you missed a meeting or an important deadline you had to have an excuse. Mattie and Peter are here too. They went down to the diner to grab something to eat."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

America paused for a moment and looked right into England's now dull green eyes. "Because I wanted to be here when you woke up," he sighed.

"You didn't have to..." England began.

"But I did," America cut in, "I needed to be with you. I needed to make sure you were Ok. It's been a tough week. But I think we're in the clear now." America smiled softly.

At that moment America's phone went off. It had gone off many times before, but he had been to numb to notice it and Canada never pointed it out to him knowing he would not bother to answer it. America took the phone out of his pocket and checked the screen.

"Who is it?" England asked having heard the vibration.

"It's a text," America replied as he clicked to open it, "From Hungary."

"What does it say?" England asked.

"'Hi America,'" America read, "'How is everything? Please text me or call me back. I'm really worried about England. Do you want me to come? Much love, Hungary.'" America looked up at England. "I have another twenty or so messages. Chances are they say generally the same things. Want me to read them to you?"

England nodded a yes and America began to read through all the text messages the other countries had sent. There was another message from Italy who had stolen Germany's phone again. Russia had texted offering to sent vodka and sunflowers and China offered to send food like many of the other countries had. France texted again begging for an update. America texted everyone back and told them that England was doing fine and that there was no need to send things or come. He included that England would be at the next world meeting safe and sound and thanks for being so worried. England was happy with that. He didn't want nor felt he needed anyone to come or send things. This was no big deal after all, right?

As America shut his phone, the door opened and Canada walked in carrying a McDonnald's take out bag. His eyes widened with happy surprise at seeing England awake.

"Arthur!" Canada said happily, "You're awake. How are you feeling? Oh, Alfred, I brought you a burger. I knew you would be hungry." Canada tossed America the bag. He caught it easily and greedily opened the bag pulling out a box that contained a burger.

Canada took his seat in the chair next to America. "Are you hungry?" he asked, "I could go get the doctor and ask him what you can eat."

"You can page the doctor with this little button thing," America said through a bite of cheeseburger. He held up a small little control that had a red button on it. "I'd just call him now," America continued after swallowing, "He might want to know when Arthur woke up." Canada nodded and pressed the button. A bright yellow light appeared in the hallway above the door that Canada had not closed.

After a few minutes a nurse scurried into the room. She seemed timid, like a deer caught in headlights. It didn't take a genius to realize that she was probably new to the hospital staff. "Y... Yes?" she asked.

"My friend just woke up," America explained, "We weren't sure if the doctor would want to know."

"Oh... Of course," the nurse said as she bolted from the room. After a few moments the doctor strolled into the room.

"Hey! How are you feeling?" he asked England as he walked over to the bed.

"Alright," England replied, "Just my head and arm hurts." His cheeks were bright red from embarrassment.

"Well, that's normal," the doctor told him, "You hit your head pretty hard. You also broke your arm. Your hand, though, is no longer infected so your fever shouldn't jump up like it did before. Actually, it's going down." He turned to one of the monitors England was hooked up to. "It's 101.8 right now," he said, "You should be back to normal soon. We just want to keep you for a little while to make sure your head is Ok. We also need to do some surgery on your arm. The bones are shattered and we need to surgically repair it or else it will never heal. If you're hungry you can have one of your... Friends grab something from the cafeteria."

England nodded. "Thank you sir," he said, "Do you know if there's tea in the cafeteria?"

"Hey, nice accent!" the doctor exclaimed, "Are you from England? What part?"

England was slightly taken aback by the doctor's comment. "I'm from London," England replied slightly irked.

"Hey! My niece lives there. You know her?"

"_Thank you_," America glared annoyed by the doctor. His voice was a little harsh and the doctor looked rather shocked. "You have been very kind," America said in a softer tone, "I can't thank you enough!" America gave the doctor a bright, kind smile.

"Y... Yes," the doctor stammered unsure of how to respond, "Of course, you're welcome." With that he walked out of the room rather quickly and shut the door behind him. When he was out of earshot, the three nations burst into a fit of laughter.

"Rude American," England mumbled, "They always ask me the stupidest questions."

"Sorry about that, Iggy," America apologized laughing, "But people here seem to think your accent is pretty kick-ass." _And sexy_. America blinked. These weird thoughts had been popping into his mind for a little while. He wanted to push them away but couldn't. Part of him disliked the random thoughts. Another, stronger part of him loved them.

"He never answered my question either," England huffed.

"I'll go see if there is any tea," Canada offered, "And I'll bring back something light to snack on." With a smile, Canada walked out of the room shutting the door behind him.

England sighed and turned to face America. "What are you looking at?" England asked him. America had been staring into space, his eyes fixated on England's eyes.

America blinked, broken from his thoughts. "I... Sorry," America blushed forgetting what he was even thinking about.

"No, what?" England persisted.

"Just... Uh," America stammered, "You look nice." America blushed. He had not meant to say that, but it just popped out. He shrugged his shoulders hoping to pass it off as a joke.

England's eye twitched. "I'm in the hospital, my hair a mess, sick as a dog, and I have a broken arm and I 'look nice?'" He asked clearly irked.

"I... No! Sorry, you don't look nice," America tried, "Wait! No! I mean you don't look nice, you just look good. Wait, no... Uh..." America's face turned even redder as he began to nervously fumble with his coat.

"You're a git," England said harshly. But when America looked up at him, he was smiling. The two made eye contact and broke into a fit of giggles. Even with the sad situation the two were in at the moment, they could still find happiness with each other. Although life had dealt them a tough hand to work with, they were still able to manage just because they were with each other.

Canada came back a short while later beaming with pride that they cafeteria actually did have some tea. England happily drank the warm calming liquid. The day passed rather quickly. At five minutes until six, a nurse came into the room to let the two nations know that visiting hours were over. The countries said their goodbyes. Just as Canada and America walked out of the room, England fell asleep tired after what he felt was a long day.

"Wait!" America exclaimed as they entered the waiting room. He turned to the nurse at the desk. "Where is the gift shop?" he asked her.

"It's in the next building over," she replied, "But it's closing at six."

"Thanks!" America shouted as he ran for the doors opposite the parking lot.

"Wait!" Canada shouted to the now excited nation, "Where are you going?"

"I have to get something!" America explained from across the room, "I'll be there in a little bit. I'll meet you at the car." He ran out the automatic doors and into what was the Children's building. America bolted into the gift shop that was just off the lobby.

"Hey!" A woman, who was obviously the store owner, shouted, "We close in two minutes. So hurry up or you're getting locked in." She had been standing in the doorway ready to close the store. Now she slowly walked back to the registers and stood with her arms folded across her chest obviously annoyed at the nation.

"That's fine!" America said grabbing what he had come in the store for. He brought it up to the register and popped it on the counter. He plucked a post card from the stand and took an "I Love NYC" from a cup. He wrote a scribbled a note on the heavy paper and handed the woman a twenty saying, "Keep the change." He dashed out the door and back to the main building.

A young nurse with deep green eyes and blonde hair looked up at him as he bolted in. "Can I help you?" she asked as he approached the desk.

"Yeah," he panted, "I'm sorry! I just need to give my friend something. It will take five seconds, I swear! Please, dude! It's important. And I won't wake him up. I'll be quiet! Please!"

"It's past six, you know," she said, "I don't think so. Sorry."

"Please!" America whined batting his eyes, "Come on, you're a pretty woman, you know! A pretty woman such as yourself must have a big heart to match her pretty face."

The woman blushed and said nothing. "You're eyes are really pretty too," America continued, "I'm a sucker for green eyes." Well, that much was true. Although America was leading the poor woman on, he had no time to feel bad for his actions.

"Well, fine, I guess," the woman mumbled, "But you have five seconds, got it?" Blushing, she lead him back to England's room.

America wandered into the dark room. England was fast asleep on the hospital bed. As America came closer, he noticed how peaceful England looked. He tucked his present, a medium sized golden brown teddy bear, into England's bed. Softly, he kissed England's forehead. He left the room as England unconsciously snuggled closer to the bear.

_Iggy, I can't be with you tonight like I have been these past few nights. But here's a bear to keep you company while I'm gone. I'll be back in the morning. 'Cause I'm the hero, remember? Get well soon, Iggy! You better!_

_Love Alfred

* * *

_

_CORNY NOTE IS CORNY~ And a cheesy chapter is also cheesy~!_

_I don't like this chapter either . I hate how I wrote it... I'm hoping I like the next one better._

_I'll also be gone for a few days. I have a speech and debate tournament tomorrow (WISH ME LUCK~!) and am going on an overnight with the team. Last year, the computers broke and we didn't leave until midnight on Saturday . Hopefully that will NOT happen this year, but you never know. Hopefully I'll be back at 5. Still, I'll be way to tired to do anything~_

_Getting to the point: I'm updating on Sunday. Sorry for the wait ;_; _

_Anyway, reviews are loved. Thank you guys SO much. YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU~ _


	12. Stupid Bloody Handwriting

_Thank you all so much for your reviews~! And Thanks for the good lucks at the tournament! I actually did pretty well. All my rounds were with 6 people and I didn't get below a 4. One was even a 2 (out of 6), 98 (out of 100)~! Also, 2 people from my (small) school placed. One 1st in Lincoln Douglas (debate) and one 2nd in Congress~! There was also a drunk dude in our hotel, but I'll ramble more on my Live Journal *pokes UL* _

_Anyway, as a thanks to all of you and to say sorry for running away this weekend, here's the next chapter a little earlier today~! It's kind of a filler. I'll be doing I think one more and wrapping this story up in about three or four more chapters ;_;_

_Well, enjoy!

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_

"When do visiting hours start?" America whined for what seemed like the millionth time. First he begged Canada for the information, then he went after each and every nurse he saw. He even asked Sealand a few times, but those times were more than likely out of pure boredom. The answer remained the same: ten in the morning. And no, it didn't matter that you couldn't fall asleep that night and the nurse didn't care what time you dragged yourself in. It was ten and that was that.

Unfortunately everyone within three hundred yards of the young nation had to put up with his pouting and complaining. America just couldn't find a way to entertain himself. The three nations had gotten to the hospital at six forty-five sharp. They had expected the visiting hours to start at seven but were surprised to find that they were wrong. So the nations went out to eat but that only killed an hour and there was no point in going all the way back to America's house. Besides, rush hour had started and it would be a bad time to drive anyway.

So America tried to entertain himself by reading the outdated magazines scattered around the room but was quickly bored with the old gossip and political races that ended years ago. The next thing he tried was Sealand's video game the small nation had brought with him. Unfortunately, the game was only one player and America soon became frustrated with the difficult controls.

"Who gave this piece of crap to you?" America asked throwing his hands up in the air.

"Japan," Sealand replied, "He showed me how to use it. Shall I show you?"

America folded his arms across his chest. "No," he huffed, "It's just like Japan to make something so damn complicated. There's really no need." With that, America tried to busy himself with the coloring books left on the children's table. America was too antsy to color, though and quickly became frustrated.

"Canada!" America whined, "Is it ten yet?"

Canada sighed trying to keep the best attitude possible when he had not one, but now two children to look after. At least it was a different question this time. He turned to glare at America who was looking at him with those kicked puppy eyes of his. "We have a half hour," Canada said flatly.

America groaned and fell back in the chair. "Canada, I'm bored!" he whined, yet another statement he had been repeating for the past few hours.

"Well, I can't change the time," Canada replied. This was the same thing he had told America five minutes ago. And ten minutes before that. And fifteen minutes before that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Canada saw a nurse sigh and stand up. She walked around the desk and headed for the corner the three nations had claimed. "Crap," Canada thought, "We're going to get kicked out!"

"You're with Mr. Kirkland, right?" the nurse asked with an exasperated sigh. Canada nodded and opened his mouth to apologize. "You can go right now," she said, "My boss said it was Ok." Canada nodded and turned to America who had been listening in on the conversation. Wordlessly, but with a fist pump from America, the nations followed the nurse down the hall. She opened the door a crack but paused to look at the nations. "_Quietly_," she said narrowing her eyes at America. America rolled his eyes and nodded putting his finger to his lips and winking. The woman sighed and opened the door.

America and Canada rushed in, quietly, and were greeted by a glaring England. "I thought visiting hours weren't until ten," the sick nation said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland," the nurse said, "But these two insisted on seeing you earlier." The nurse paused and narrowed her eyes again at America. "I can escort them _out_ if you want." America shot her and Canada a look that asked 'What did I do?'

England sighed and looked at the two nations with a small, barely noticeable, smile. "No," he said, "It's Ok." The nurse nodded and left the room without another word. America and Canada walked further into the room and took the two seats by England's bed.

The first thing Canada did was open the blinds to let the bright sun in. Glancing around the now bright room, America noticed the teddy bear was propped up next to England. Canada turned around, his eyes also landing on the bear. He glanced at America with a questioning look but said nothing.

"What's this?" England asked America his slight smile fading. He pointed to the bear with the same hand he had the note in, seemingly reading Canada's mind.

America blushed just the slightest bit. "It's a teddy bear," he replied shrugging, "And... A note. Well a postcard actually." Canada smacked his face with his hand knowing England was going to get angry at the smart-ass comment.

"I bloody know it's a teddy bear, you git!" England shouted proving Canada right, "Where did it come from? And what's with this bloody note! I taught you to write better to this. Why, I can hardly read this. You... You pain in my arse!"

America chuckled. "The store closed at six and I had about two seconds to write the note," America explained, "If you can't read the handwriting, I'll read it to you."

"I can read it, you git," England huffed, "But _why_?" With that England picked up the bear and held it out to America. Not so that America would take it, but so England could show it to him.

America paused trying to think of what to say. Defeated, he sighed. "I... So you wouldn't be lonely," America replied unable to make something up.

England would have yelled at him, but was taken aback by America's sincerity. Had Canada not caught himself, he would have let a small "aww" escape his lips. Before that could happen, he clasped his hand over his mouth. The quick movement produced a loud smacking sound making America and England turn to look at Canada who began fake coughing. When he had coughed a sufficient amount, he smiled saying, "Excuse me."

"Anyway," America said turning his attention back to England, "You looked uncomfortable. I thought you needed a little comfort while in this dreary place." America smiled a kind, soft smile that made England blush.

"W... Well, thanks," England mumbled blushing a deep red. "It was... Very thoughtful." America and Canada laughed and soon even England joined in a little.

"So, when did you wake up Arthur?" Canada asked innocently.

"About eight," England replied, "Oh, and the doctor said I had to have surgery on my blasted arm. Today! Can you believe that?" England was clearly upset and had obviously forgotten what the doctor had told him yesterday. "They don't tell you anything! He might as well have told me ten minutes before the bloody surgery," England continued, "How rude."

"Hey Iggy! I have a secret," America said with a sly grin.

"Don't call me Iggy, you git!" England shouted at him, "It's England, Arthur, or Great Britain. But what is it?"

America leaned in close to England's ear with a daring smile on his face. Putting his lips right up to England's ear he resisted the urge to nibble the tip of England's ear. "This is New York," America whispered, "No one gives two shits about you or how you feel."

England's eyes widened and then narrowed. He pushed the younger nation away from him. "Get away from me, you git," England shouted, "I can figure that much myself." But the look in England's eyes wasn't a look of disdain. No, it was a playful look.

At that the door creaked open and the doctor followed by a nurse came into the room. He nodded at Canada and England but seemed to shrink back a little when his eyes landed on America. He must not have forgotten America's harsh comment and personality change the day before. "I'm going to have to ask you two to leave," the doctor started.

"I'm so sorry!" Canada panicked, "We didn't realize the visiting hours weren't until ten! If we made too much noise I'm so, so sorry! We just wanted to see our friend... Er... Brother." America glanced at Canada and made a crazy sign when he looked back at the doctor.

"Oh, no," the doctor smiled, "We just need to prep Mr. Kirkland for surgery. We should be done in about 3 hours. We'll call you when we're done."

Canada let out a huge sigh of relief. "That's good," he mumbled. Turning to England, he smiled. "We'll see you soon," Canada said as he began walking out the door.

"Yeah! Have fun," America commented. "Or not," he added seeing England's irked face.

"Just get out of here, you git," England replied. Only it was said playfully and kindly instead of with the usual harshness.

"Bye, England," America said following Canada out of the room.

* * *

"So how are we gonna kill three hours?" America asked. The two nations were walking back to the waiting room where Sealand was still playing his video game. America had his hands in his pockets and already looked a little bored.

"I dunno," Canada replied honestly, "We could go to the diner down the street and grab some lunch. But that will only take an hour tops."

America groaned. The young nation needed to keep himself occupied. That's why he loved to bug people at World Meetings. It gave him something to do when the meetings got boring, which they usually did. "Let's get Peter and go to the diner," America said, "We can grab something and kill _some_ time at least." Canada nodded.

The three nations retreated to the diner and grabbed a booth next to a window that looked over a busy New York City street. People were wandering around some even looking a little lost. Sealand took great joy in waving to all the young children who walked by. The nations ordered their lunch and chatted as they waited for their food to come.

"So when's the next world meeting?" America asked, "It's been so crazy, I honestly forgot." He took a sip of Pepsi and looked at Canada for a reply.

"It's next January on the 15th!" Sealand pipped up. Seeing the confused looks on America and Canada's faces he added, "What? I'm a country, so I need to know too!" Canada and America chuckled at the small nation.

"I have a lot of paperwork to do when I get home" Canada mumbled thinking of the stacks of paperwork that was sitting untouched on his desk at home.

"Same here," America said remembering his own untouched stack at home, "I guess with all this craziness, I forgot all about it. At least we have December off. I can catch up. I'll just have to take a few days in a row to get it all done."

Canada sighed and chuckled a little, "They gave me twice the work, though. How about you?"

"Twice the work," America nodded, "But at least I have even more time to procrastinate!" At that the two older countries laughed while Sealand looked on.

"Why do I never get any paperwork?" Sealand huffed crossing his arms.

America and Canada exchanged glances. They could just say 'Because almost none of the other countries acknowledge you as a country' but knew that would be just downright rude. "Because you're too awesome to have a lot of paperwork," America said thinking quickly, "Like Prussia. You two don't get paperwork because you're too awesome." America paused realizing he was putting himself down. "I only get paperwork because my country is having some money problems," he added quickly.

Canada and America held their breaths hoping Sealand would buy it. When Sealand said "Oh! I get it!" the two older nations released the built up air. Thankfully, the food came then saving the two older nations from anymore conversation about paperwork. You would have thought they were giving Sealand 'the talk' as they were so happy to be interrupted by food.

America, as usual, ordered a cheeseburger and french fries. It was noticeably smaller than he usually got, though; it was only a quarter pound instead of the full pound the diner boasted about on the menu. Canada had gotten pancakes with a side of toast. He had picked this diner specifically because they served breakfast at lunch. Sealand had gotten fish and chips silently trying to remember England through all this. Although the small nation would never admit it, he was truly worried about England and hoped the older nation would be alright.

The nations talked a little while they ate. Mostly about world affairs and other things that would keep their minds off the situation at hand.

When they were done, they payed and left heading back for the hospital. Unfortunately, they had only killed an hour still with two more to go. All three of them sat heavily down on the waiting room chairs in that same little corner. Sealand ran off to go the bathroom leaving just Canada and America.

"So when are you going to say something?" Canada asked turning to his brother.

America opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but closed it when he realized what his brother was talking about. "I...," America thought, "I don't know. When the time is right, I guess. Not now. I dunno how he'd react." This brought up thoughts in America's mind of how England would respond. Maybe he was just so delusional that day and really, truly had no clue what he was doing. America, of course, hoped that wasn't the case, but the young nation couldn't help but wonder.

"I'm sure he's day he loves you to," Canada said with a smile, "I know it doesn't seem like it, as I am so quiet most of the time, but I can read a situation well. And what I'm seeing is love. Now, I'm not Francis, so I could be wrong but I think I'm right on this." Canada blushed. "Maybe."

America nodded, lost in his own thoughts. Even if England said he loved him too, where do you go from that? Sure, America had his girlfriends and boyfriends in the past but it was never anything serious. None of those little things ever lasted more than a few days. But this was true love, America could tell. Even if England turned him down, he knew he would never love anyone else like he did the elder nation.

* * *

_Yes, Pepsi and not Coke (sorry, I like pepsi better xP)_

_And DAAAAWWWW ENGLAND :D _

_Next chapter is yet another filler because I feel bad about neglecting Sealand. So to make it all better, I've put him in a dress. _

_Sealand: Wait... What? Oh crap._

_You'll just have to wait and see. But just to give you a hint, I'm naming that chapter "No, Crack is Not Allowed in the Hospital." _

_Review if you can~ And 125 reviews~~~! OMG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! I LOVE YOU ALL ~~! _


	13. No, Crack is NOT Allowed in the Hospital

_YES~! Two (not one, but TWO) snow days in a row~! I'm super excited._

_I don't know what to say about this chapter. All I want to say is that one of my reviewers, tamiki-kun, told me about her friend that died from a blood clot. Tamiki-kun, I am so, so sorry for your loss. While I have never lost a friend, I can relate through loosing a few family members. RIP Alyssa. This chapter is dedicated to you. :)_

_Anyway, enjoy~

* * *

_

Sealand bounded down the hallway trying to make his way back to the waiting room where the two elder nations were waiting for him. After using the restroom, he must have made a wrong turn and was now wandering aimlessly around the building. He would be upset that he had gotten himself lost, but he was bored like many kids would be in his situation and decided to use the opportunity to have an adventure. Well, as much of an adventure one could have in a hospital.

Rounding a corner he found himself in a children's ward. It was not like the waiting room in the emergency room, though. The walls were painted bright colors and the rug was a bright white. Children's games and toys filled the waiting area and a few kids were using the various items left for them. Sealand, still unsure of where he even was ventured further into the room.

"Hello," a voice greeted him. Sealand looked up to see an older woman with a kind face looking down at him. Her smile was kind, but it seemed almost fake in a way. As though she had been working around kids too long and the fake smile was forever ingrained on her face. "How are you?" she asked the smile never wavering.

"Uh... I'm fine," Sealand replied just a little uneasy.

The woman stared at him for a moment. Then her eyes widened and her smiled wavered for just a moment. "Ah," she said, "You're the new Sun Shine Child aren't you?"

"The what?" Sealand asked confused.

"Yes, you are," the woman continued not hearing or just choosing to ignore Sealand's question, "Your shift started ten minutes ago. But you're new so you must have forgotten, right? Now come on and let's get you changed. You're going to be watching the children today. That's what you're signed up for, right?"

"But wait! I'm not-" Sealand started but was not heard by the woman who had already taken his arm and was dragging him to the bathroom. The woman's bathroom.

The two entered the room. Sealand closed his eyes, trying to be respectful, and let the woman guide him. The restroom had two parts to it. There was a sitting part with a closet and then there was the actual bathroom with three stalls and two sinks. She stopped at the closet and pulled an outfit out. As she went to hand the uniform to him she noticed his eyes were closed. "Open your eyes, girl," she said, "You'll never be able to work with them closed."

Sealand went to open his eyes but paused as he realized something. She had called him 'girl.' He slowly opened his eyes the rest of the way and looked up at a pink dress with little red stripes on it. He almost gasped in horror. This woman thought he was a girl and there was no way he was going to be able to get out of having to wear this dress. America was never going to let him hear the end of this if he ever caught him.

"Now, go get changed," the woman urged, "Come on! We don't have all day." She shoved the uniform at him and pushed him into the empty handicap stall. Sealand stood there for a moment unsure of what to do. He could tell that the woman had not walked away, so there was no possible way to escape. Slowly removing his clothing he put the dress on, hoping it was the right way. He planned to run when the woman had her back turned-and try to get the dress off before America or Canada saw him.

"Now come on," the woman said grabbing Sealand's arm as he emerged from the stall with his discarded clothing in hand. He was wearing the pink with red striped dress along with white knee socks. The woman stopped and pulled a pink bow from her pocket. She removed Sealand's cap and placed the bow on his head and then continued on. Needless to say, poor Sealand was mortified.

The woman led Sealand into a large room that was similar to the waiting room. The only difference was that there were many children all dressed in white gowns playing with more toys than the waiting room had to offer. There were also video games on small computers, but most kids were playing a board game in the center of the room.

Sealand stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. "Go on," the woman urged her smile not wavering, but her voice sounding irked. Sealand looked up at the woman and blinked beginning to grasp the idea that she wanted him to play with the children. Slowly and unsure he walked to where the kids were playing a board game.

"Uh... What's ya playing?" Sealand asked looking down on the eight kids.

Two looked up at him. One smiled, the other did not. "We're playing Monopoly," the girl who was smiling replied, "Wanna play?"

Sealand, unsure of how to answer looked back at where the woman was standing. She was gone and had left the room. Through the glass, Sealand could see her face the door and pull out a set of keys. There was a clicking sound and Sealand knew that she had locked the door. "S... Sure," he said thinking that was what the woman would have wanted him to do.

"You do know how to play, right?" the frowning boy asked. Sealand nodded. The small nation looked down at the board wondering what kind of Monopoly it was. To his surprise it was a world version of Monopoly! Glancing at the box, it read, 'The game of fast paced buying and selling: World Monopoly! Buy and sell your favorite countries!' Sealand smiled a wicked smile and grabbed a piece. He knew he was going to have fun with this.

* * *

"Mr. Kirkland is out of surgery. He's resting in his room," a nurse informed America and Canada, "You can go see him now, but as usual please be quiet. The surgery was a success, by the way."

"Thank you," Canada replied as he and America stood up to go to England's room. The two walked down the hall and shuffled into England's room where he was still asleep from the anesthetic. His arm was wrapped in a new cast and his breathing was regular.

"His temperature is 100.1," the nurse who had followed them in said, "He should be alright." With that, she turned and walked out of the room leaving the two men with the sleeping nation.

America sat down first followed by Canada. "I hope we can take him home soon," America whispered unsure of what else to say.

Canada nodded. "Shortly, I think," he replied, "But where are we going to take him? He can't go home yet. He's still got to recover from this."

"My house," America said as though the answer was obvious. Canada looked up at him with surprise. "My house is as good as any," America explained, "And, like you said, we can't let him go home yet. I was thinking that he could stay with me until Christmas. We could fly back to his house before Christmas Eve so we could spend the holiday at his house like he wanted."

Canada thought for a moment pondering the idea. "That's a pretty good idea," Canada said after thinking for a moment. "Peter and I will spend another week here. Then we will probably go home and meet you guys for Christmas."

America nodded and the two sat with the last comment hanging over their heads for a few moments. Then both their heads snapped up at the same time and they locked eyes. "Where _is _Peter?" they asked at the same time.

* * *

"And now I own England," Sealand said dramatically, "That jerk is all mine!"

"Will you trade England for France?" a girl asked, "I'll also add a thousand dollars."

"Heck no!" Sealand exclaimed, "I've been waiting all my life to finally have one over on that jerk! Now I own him! He's mine and there's no way I'm giving this up!"

"Uh... You do know this is just a game, right?"

"A game that I'm winning!"

Sealand had been playing the Monopoly game for about an hour now and was getting more and more competitive. He owned most of the available countries and already five people had been knocked out of the game. Only Sealand and the two children who had looked up at him were left. The others had run off to play other games.

"Forget it," the sour faced boy said throwing down his money, "I'm sick of you. You act like the countries are real people or something." With that he stood up and walked away towards the stuffed animals.

"He's right," the girl said gently placing her money on the board, "You're a little too competitive. I think I'm going to go play a different game."

"Wait," Sealand said as she began to stand up. The girl turned around to look at him. "I guess I have been a little too competitive," he admitted, "We can pack up. Sorry about that."

The girl smiled. "It's Ok," she said, "We get a lot of kids who get over competitive. You're just the most funny!" She bent down to help Sealand put the game back in the box.

"Thanks," Sealand said, "By the way, what do other... Er... Sunny whatever children people do?"

"Many tell us stories," the girl replied taking the box and placing it back on the shelf. She paused and turned to look at Sealand. "Do you have any good stories to tell us?"

Sealand paused taking the moment to examine the young girl. She looked no older than ten and even might have been a stretch. She had very short dark brown hair and green eyes. She looked at Sealand with much innocence. "Yeah, I have a few," Sealand smiled, "Oh and What's your name?"

"Sam!" She exclaimed, "I'll go tell the others it's story time!" At that, she trotted over to where the other children were. Although the girl looked young, she was probably the oldest of all the other children there. This was further proved when they all actually did listen to her and gathered around Sealand for a story. Sealand smiled at the girl and sat down on the floor to tell his story.

* * *

"Have you seen a little boy? About ye high with dirty blonde hair, thick eyebrows, and blue eyes?" America asked the nurse. He had taken off to try to find the small nation who was apparently lost to the two older nations.

The woman went to shake her head but paused. "Well, I saw a little girl with that description." She commented pondering the situation.

America's eyes widened. "Was he... She... Wearing a blue cap and a blue and white sailor's outfit?"

"The kid was wearing a blue cap and a pink Sun Shine Child dress," the woman told him, "He or she went to play with the children in the play room down that hallway." America nodded a thank you and took off down the corridor.

He reached the next nurses station after following the not-so-straight hallway. One of the nurses looked up at him. She pasted a fake smile on her face as he walked over. "Have you seen my bro-" he began. But he had looked up and was staring through the glass window and into the play room. There was Sealand sitting on the floor with a small boy on his lap. The best part? He was in a dress.

"What?" the woman asked her voice sounded annoyed but her smile did not go away.

"That's my little brother," America answered pointing to Sealand trying to keep from laughing. The woman turned around and looked at where America was pointing.

"No, that's the new Sun Shine Child," she answered.

"No... That's my little brother," America corrected. He smiled even more. "Let me guess. You thought he was a girl and slapped him into a dress because you were more or less desperate for some kid to play with the other little kids?" America paused and looked into the woman's stricken face. "It's Ok," he said, "I just need to get the story straight."

"Come with me," the woman said shortly standing up and walking over to where the playroom was. She unlocked the door and walked in.

"... And that is why Sealand is the most amazing nation on Earth and will take over the world one day. And that is also why England is a jerk." Sealand smiled at the children before looking up at whoever had come through the door. His eyes widened in horror. "Oh... Uh.. Hi, Al... Um... I can explain?" Sealand stammered putting the small boy down on the floor and standing up.

America wanted to laugh, but also did not want to add to Sealand's embarrassment. "Come on '_Pat_'," he said trying to play along with the Sealand-is-a-girl joke. He grabbed Sealand's arm and rushed him out the door as he muttered a "Goodbye" to all the other children.

When the two had escaped both the kids and the weird woman down the hall America stopped to catch his breath. He looked down at Sealand and burst out laughing.

"Stop it!" Sealand cried, "It's not what it looks like! I was tricked. Or better, I was kidnapped. They kidnap people in New York, Al! They kidnap little boys and put them in dresses! New York is scary, Al!"

America chuckled a little at the small nation. "Let's just get you changed. I grabbed your clothes for you," he said, "Arthur's out of surgery and is doing well." He brought Sealand out to where the front desk of the Children's Hospital was. America turned to the woman at the desk who was staring at them. "Where can we put this dress when he's changed?" America asked her.

"Just give it to me," the woman said looking at Sealand, "Edna made a mistake again, didn't she? Please excuse her; her eyesight is very bad but she refuses to wear glasses!"

"It's Ok," America chuckled as Sealand walked towards the bathrooms. "He didn't mind. Honestly, I think he enjoyed himself. His brother is in the hospital at the moment so I think he got a little bored. At least his first trip to New York was memorable!"

The woman laughed with America as he glanced up to make sure Sealand was hurrying along. "Sealand," he said flatly when he saw where Sealand was walking, "That's the girl's room."

"It is? Oh..."

* * *

_And there is my present to you. Some Sealand crack._

_And I SUCK at writing straight up romance. So the next chapter will suck pretty bad Dx _

_No, Sam is not a love interest. She's about 9-ish and is an OC I came up with in, like 2 seconds.  
Anyway, Edna is my Grandma's name xP She's not blind like this Enda, but I needed an old person name xP_

_And so, review if you can~ _


	14. Fail Romance is Fail

_Thank you again for the AMAZING reviews. And to Edna, sorry xP Here in the states it is a name that is not that common among this generation of kids xP_

_On another note, I HATE THIS CHAPTER. I SUCK at writing straight up romance. I can write crack, and I can write fluff. But when it comes to straight up honest to God romance, I just... Fail. So I'm so sorry. I hope that you are able to get the deeper meaning through my sucky fail romance... _

_Anyway Enjoy~

* * *

_America took Sealand and told him to stay put. He would try to convince the nurse to allow the small nation into England's room. America certainly didn't want Sealand running around in a dress... Again.

"Where was he?" Canada asked as America walked back into the room. England was awake and sitting up in the bed looking at America intently. He had probably heard that Sealand had gotten lost.

"That, my dear friends, is a story that I will save for Peter himself to tell you," America said with a wink.

They laughed as the young nation took his seat next to England. "How are ya feeling, dude?" America asked in his usual slang.

"I'm doing fine, you git," England responded obviously annoyed, "And don't talk to me like I'm some 'dude' on the street. I'm the bloody United Kingdom; not some dog!" England looked up at America and smiled slightly. He seemed to be more cheerful around the younger nation. At least, he had been for the past few days.

"Has the doctor come back yet?" America asked turning to Canada.

"Yeah," Canada told him, "The doctor said the surgery was more than a success and that Arthur can go home tomorrow!" Canada flash America a smile and America smiled back.

"That's good," America sighed, "I'm just glad to know it's all over." After everything the young nation had been through the past week or so, all he wanted was to go home for some peace and quiet. In an ideal world, he wanted to take England back to his house and confess his feelings. Then they would sit on the couch by the fire for the rest of the winter; just them and no one else.

But America didn't live in a perfect world and did not get his hopes up. He was just thankful that England would be going home and that they had survived this ordeal. That was all America wanted for right now.

"I'm going to go get Peter and grab some dinner," Canada told everyone, "What do you want?"

"I'm fine with just tea for right now," England responded pointing to the half empty polystyrene cup on the table that held his favorite kid of tea.

"You know what I want," America said winking.

"You can't live on a diet of hamburgers, Alfred," Canada scolded, "How about a salad? Or a fish sandwich? Even a chicken sandwich might be good."

America sighed, not in the mood to fight-even if it was just play fighting. "Fine, I'll have a chicken sandwich," he said with a bored tone, "But I want it crispy and I also want fries and a coke with it."

Canada smiled and nodded. He hardly ever won an argument with his brother, even just a play argument. He happily walked out of the room to go gather Sealand. Little did America know, they would be going to the diner so the younger nation and England could talk a little. And so that Canada could have his pancakes.

"It's almost over, eh?" England asked America.

America smiled. "Yeah. It's almost over."

England blushed and looked down at the sheets. "I probably wasn't be best patient in the world, now was I?" England asked, "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused. It's all my fault." England stared at the sheets. It took a lot for him to apologize and America knew that.

"It's... Not all your fault," America said. In truth, if you wanted to point blame you could say it was England's fault. But America did not want England to take any blame. Not with the sorry situation he was in.

"Ok, so some of it is," America admitted, "But when you had a temp, I probably should have forced you to lie down right from the start. That's why you got the knife stuck in your hand. And I should have cleaned the wound better; that's why it got infected." America paused and made eye contact with England. "See, it's not all your fault."

England smiled at the younger nation who was trying to make him feel better. Then his smile faded and he looked at America with a serious expression on his face. "I didn't do anything... Weird... when I was delusional, did I?" England asked, "And if you lie to me, I'll know."

America looked down at his hands and didn't respond.

"Alfred," England said in a warning voice, "Look. It was all a dream to me. And there was something at the end of that 'dream' that I want to know more about. And you know something about it, I can tell."

"Well, if you know, why don't you just say it?" America asked innocently.

England's eye twitched. "Because I'm not sure if it happened or not."

"Then just say what you think," America said with a smile.

England sighed. "Alright. I had a dream that I was a … man of the sea... And you gave me a bath. Apparently that was true. But... At the end... I had a dream... That you and I... Well..."

"Kissed?" America asked his face turning as red as England's.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"So... Did we?"

"... Yeah."

"Oh..."

The two sat there in an awkward silence for a few moments. "I... remembered it during surgery," England told him, "I had a dream."

"Ah," America said.

"I remembered something else about it."

"What?"

"It was... Nice," England turned a deeper shade of red and looked down at the sheets. America stared at England for a few moments. He couldn't believe what he was hearing! Not only did England know about the kiss, but he also enjoyed it. America smiled at the older nation.

"So are you saying that I'm a good kisser?" America asked with a teasing voice. Surprisingly, England turned even redder and did not look up.

"I guess so," he mumbled. America sat there shocked for a few moments.

"I guess Mattie was right," America mused to himself. England looked up at the younger nation with a confused look on his face.

"What do you mean?" England asked.

"Mattie told me that we showed all the signs of being in love but just wouldn't admit it to each other," America responded, "He said that we were 'soul mates' or something. I _did_ think that it was just that old pervert having too much influence on Mattie, but apparently he was right."

"So you think we're soul mates?"

It was now America's turn to blush. "I don't _think_," America said just the slightest bit above a whisper, "I _know_." America stood up and sat himself on the bed next to where England's waist was under the white blanket. He laced his hand into England's left hand-the one that had been infected. America leaned in and placed a small peck on England's mouth. The older nation smiled and returned the kiss, this time staying intertwined for a few minutes.

The two broke apart and stared at each other for a moment. "I love you," America whispered.

"I love you too," England replied.

* * *

Canada and Sealand came back a little while later. Sealand was told, yet again, to stay put in the waiting room and to under no circumstances get up and leave. Canada entered England's room. He gasped at what he saw. America was laying next to England running his fingers through the older's blonde hair. England was nestled in his arms fast asleep. America had his eyes closed, but was murmuring something so Canada knew he was awake.

"Alfred?" Canada asked. America's head shot up and his eyes widened at seeing Canada. He didn't move, though, as he didn't want to disturb a sleeping England.

"Oh, hey Mattie!" America greeted, "What's up?"  
"What are you doing?" Canada asked ignoring America's question and replacing it with his own.

America blushed. "Oh, you know... Hanging out," America said, "Oh! And Iggy fell asleep."

"I can... See that," Canada responded, "But why-"

"Hey! Is that McDonald's?" America asked cutting Canada off completely and pointing to the paper bag in the larger nation's hand.

"Well, yeah," Canada said.

"Awesome! Hey, do you want to call it a night and go home? Iggy's sleeping like a log. I doubt he'll wake up until tomorrow." Canada nodded. America gently laid England's head, that had been resting on his chest, onto the pillow. Slowly and quietly, he got himself off of the bed and pulled the cover's up. He then took the bear and set it next to England. Before turning out the light, he scribbled a goodbye note and headed out the door.

The nurses almost seemed relieved to see the three nations leave. They informed the two, again, that England would be ready to go home the next day as the surgery had been such a success. The three nations then left to go prepare America's home for England's coming.

* * *

_I still hate this chapter. I had no clue what to do. I've been suffering writer's block for a little bit now. UGGG I HATE THIS CHAPTER. I've said I hated chapters before, but this is the worst. As you can all tell, romance is NOT my thing. Sorry..._

_Well guys, this is it. Next chapter will be that last. Sad, right? I'll save my huge goodbye author's note speech for next chapter. For now, thank you. You guys are amazing. _

_Review if you have the chance, please :D _


	15. Together

_Never trust the weather stations... Or your history teacher. -_- Sorry this took so long. I thought there would be a snow day for me to work on this, but nope. I never had the time. Finally, I did today~! Happy Christmas break!_

_Final Chapter? *sobs* Please Enjoy. I hope I didn't screw up~! Enjoy (for the last time *emo corner*)

* * *

_

It was only a few days later that England was allowed to come home. His arm was wrapped in a cast, but his head no longer needed the bandages and his arms were no longer lined with needles. After a horrific and terrible experience, it was time to go home. Soon it would be all over. The only things that reminded the elder nation of the ordeal was his arm that was in a sling, the band aids on his arms from where the needles had been placed, and of course America.

Yes, America would forever hold the memory of that winter. It was only natural. Like when you listen to a song while doing something, the next time you hear the song you would remember doing that thing. The 'thing' was those past few weeks. America was England's song.

The four nations arrived at America's house early that morning. England was settled onto the couch while Canada cooked up some pancakes and America boiled tea. Sealand went off into the large house in search of something to entertain himself with.

"I wish I could stay a little longer," Canada mumbled to America as they stood in the kitchen. Unfortunately for the two, things had not gone as planned and Canada could not stay the extra week he had wanted to spend. His boss was becoming impatient and had important matters to deal with, so Canada had to go home the next day. Sealand would go with him and then catch a helicopter back to his small nation.

"It's fine," America responded with a shrug, "I wish you could stay a little longer too, but things happen. Iggy and I will be fine. And I'll call you if anything comes up."

Canada nodded and returned to the stove. Suddenly the kettle whistled. America jumped, startled at the sudden and unfamiliar noise, but soon realized what it was a grabbed a mug out of the cabinet. He carefully poured the hot liquid into the cup. He then grabbed a tea bag and placed it in the mug.

"Hey, Iggy!" America hummed as he walked into the living room. England looked up at the younger nation. He mouth was pulled into a tight scowl, but his eyes shone with amusement.

"Don't call me that, you git," he said softly as he accepted the mug that America handed him. America sat himself down on the couch next to England and put his arm around him. England blushed and took a sip of his tea. America smiled, laughing to himself. The older, but shorter nation, could be so cute sometimes!

After a few minutes of sitting together, Canada poked his head into the room. He smiled at the two nations before breaking the calm silence. "Pancakes are done," Canada told them.

"Bring them in here," America said with a smile to his brother, "It'd just seem more relaxed than eating in the stuffy dining room." Canada nodded and brought the plates into the room. He set two plates down in front of England and America on the coffee table.

"Peter," Canada called out," Come on! Time to eat!" It didn't take long for the small, but hungry nation to come running down the stairs. He skidded into the living room, grabbed a plate, and sat himself down on an armchair all in one swift motion.

"What?" the boy asked the three nations who were staring at him, "I'm hungry." All four laughed as they settled down to enjoy their homemade pancakes.

* * *

The day went by quickly although the nations hardly left the living room. They were just happy to be together. Movies came and went on the AMC channel. Games were played and even a few songs were song. Walking in on the scene, you would have thought that the four had invented their own holiday. But knowing what had taken place that past week, you could appreciate the small familial gestures the four displayed throughout the day.

England remained somewhat silent throughout the day. He was tired, but did not want to admit it. Instead, he took comfort in the strong arm that remained draped around him for the bulk of the day. Canada and America did most of the talking in between commercials or during a boring movie. So it was no surprise when England fell asleep on the younger nation's shoulder at about nine that evening as America and Canada chatted on.

"Hmm?" America asked feeling England's steady unconscious breathing for the first time. He looked down at the older nation as a small smile spread across his face. "He's asleep," he said to Canada not looking up.

Canada nodded. "It's been a long day." He said with a small smile.

"It's been a long week," America corrected. He looked at his brother who smiled and nodded. "Well, I'm going to bring him to bed and then turn in myself. You or Peter need anything before I go up?"

Canada and Sealand shook their heads. "We're fine," Canada said, "Good night."

"Good night!" Sealand exclaimed.

America smiled at his brothers. "Good night," he said as he gently picked England up. The older nation did not wake as America began to walk to the stairs. He took the steps slowly and carefully, enjoying the feeling of England being in his arms. When he entered the room and reached the bed, he placed England lovingly on the bed.

The small nation looked content and peaceful for the first time America could remember that week. His breathing was even, there was no sweat, and there was no fever. Everything was right with England's world.

America found himself just staring at the sleeping nation. He didn't touch him or speak. All he did was stand their and watch his chest rise up and down in a safe, healthy rhythm. It wasn't long before he realized that there was no way he would be able to bring himself to leave the room. All he wanted was to be by England's side. Unfortunately, the bed was only a twin bed-not to mention England would probably murder him if he tried to get into the bed with him. The cot America had set up was still next to the bed. So America grabbed some clean sheets and settled himself onto the cot.

With the lights out and not a sound in the house, the younger nation felt fully content. He laid there for a while just listening. The only thing he could hear was the gentle breathing that came from England. Eventually, that quiet sound lulled him to sleep. It was a dreamless sleep, but it was also a happy and content sleep.

* * *

Canada and Sealand left early that morning in order to make it back to Canada at a reasonable hour. America had to admit that he was sad to see his brothers leave, but knew that they would see each other before the year was over. It was already decided that the four would spend Christmas at England's house that year. America and England would fly to the elder nation's house a week before Christmas to prepare.

"I miss them," America said later that day. The two were back on the couch and America, as usual, had his arm around England. England was resting his head on America's firm shoulder.

"We'll see them soon," England said after a moment.

"At least we have the house to ourselves." The younger nation shot a mischievous smirk at England who frowned.

"I'm tired," he said simply.

"Those painkillers suck, don't they?" America pouted knowing that the only reason England was tired were those damn painkillers the doctor had prescribed to the older nation.

"Yeah," England mumbled his eyes closing.

America paused for a moment before placing a loving kiss on England's forehead. This startled the older nation who opened his eyes and looked up at America. Without saying anything, America placed his lips on England's. Startled again for just a moment, England returned the kiss. They stayed that way for as long as they could hold their breath. They broke apart, but quickly went back for more.

"I love you," America mumbled into England's ear as he pulled away.

"I... Love you too."

A few minutes later, England fell asleep. America, admittedly, followed suit just a few minutes after that. The two slept peacefully, England in America's comforting arms, America resting on England's soft golden head. Gentle snow danced outside the window. A fire burned in the fireplace. And two lovers slept peacefully on the couch, never forgetting the past, but eagerly ready for the future.

The End~!

* * *

**Final Words:**

_Thank you. Guys, just seriously thank you. I want you all to know how flipping GRATEFUL I am for all of you. Everyone who reviewed, everyone who faved, anyone who even read it. This is the first multichapter fic I have ever finished. I have never been more proud of myself. I found that typing "the end" was a hard thing to do. I'll miss this fic. I still have a lot to improve on, but I'm still proud._

_A lot of crap happened in my life as I wrote this. Nothing as bad as what I know a lot of people go through, but just little things that hurt me emotionally. After a particularly bad day at school, coming home and reading your amazing, loving reviews just made it all worth it. So, why did I finish this fic? It's all you guys! I wish I could find all of you and just give you all great big hugs, but that would be stalkerish and kinda rude. o.o_

_Will there be a sequal? I don't know. I'm betting not, but you never know what will go through my head. Right now I just want to get through Christmas xP _

_So, thank you. You guys gave me many gifts throught the course of this thing. For them, I am super grateful! I love all of you (yes, even you there in the back xP). Thanks for making this story not only worthwhile, but fun. You are all amazing beautiful people! _


End file.
